


Wanderlust

by Adams_Riddle



Series: Wanderlust Universe [1]
Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Dark Magic, Eventual HPLV, M/M, Minor Albus Dumbledore/Gellert Grindelwald, Tom Riddle is affected by the Blitz, Tom Riddle is mentored by Albus Dumbledore, Universe Alteration, WW2, Young Tom Riddle, no time travel, nothing too graphic, other minor ships involving main characters, slowburn, some minor character deaths, some torture
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-07-10
Updated: 2021-02-13
Packaged: 2021-03-05 05:42:10
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 29
Words: 49,290
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25179388
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adams_Riddle/pseuds/Adams_Riddle
Summary: Albus Dumbledore, at his core, wants to make things better. Therefore, despite his misgivings, he takes Tom Riddle under his wing and tries to mentor him. Will it make a difference, when all is said and done? Eventual HPLV but this is slow burn. Some other minor relationships throughout!
Relationships: Harry Potter/Voldemort
Series: Wanderlust Universe [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1989652
Comments: 140
Kudos: 135





	1. Tuesday 2nd August 1938

**Author's Note:**

> Hi! So I have some chapters for this already, it was going to be a one shot but will probably end up being 30k+ words. Chapters are separated by the date of events, which may result in some chapters being shorter than others.  
> ~  
> Dumbledore decides not to shun young Tom Riddle, and sets in motion a different future.

Albus Dumbledore hesitated, not for the first time in his life when the boy called out to him.

“Wait! I… can speak to snakes too, is that… normal in your world?”

Albus looked back at the child, perturbed by the revelation. Tom’s eyes seemed almost feverish as he waited, there was a thirst in him that was familiar – for knowledge, recognition, for  _ power _ ? He had to reign in his thoughts as, unbidden, images of a fair-haired man with eyes just like that came to him. As the image cleared, he forced himself to remember that Tom was just an orphan, desperate for a way out.

“It is not common, but also not unheard of.” Albus told him carefully, eyed the way this satisfied the boy, “It does suggest an unusual heritage.” 

“My mother died when I was born, matron told me.” Tom told him reluctantly, still sitting on his bed, stolen possessions exposed and spread over the cover, but the boy was leaning forwards with excitement he couldn’t contain, “But I was named after my father and grandfather! Have you heard of them?”

Albus had heard of only one Marvolo, an article niggling at the back of his mind, linked to a stinging memory of his own father – attacking  _ muggles,  _ both frowned upon and celebrated in certain circles.

“I may have heard of a Marvolo before, but the man I’m thinking of is incarcerated, I don’t know a Tom Riddle Sr.” Albus explained, thinking of the students that had passed through Hogwarts both with him and in his transfiguration class. There was no magical Riddle family. Before Tom could ask anything else – and he did have the look of a boy with a thousand questions - Albus cleared his throat, and arched a brow at him.

“Are you quite sure you would not like an escort to Diagon Alley?” He asked, and was pleased when this time the boy accepted. 

“Excellent, I shall make the arrangements with the matron to pick you up in a few days, there are a few more families that I need to visit with their letters. Take care, my boy, and remember what I told you about stealing, it will not be tolerated at Hogwarts.” Albus allowed a small smile to break through his stern look at the attempted chastised look he received from the boy at this.

“Thank you Professor Dumbledore, I look forward to your return.” Tom thanked him formally, and came to the doorway to wave as the man headed to the stairs.

Albus looked back, and waved once, then was gone.


	2. Friday 5th August 1938

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom Riddle visits Diagon Alley for the first time, visits Gringotts, and learns more than he expected about his blood-family.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don’t necessarily love this chapter, but the Gringotts scene is needed to draw Tom further away from canon, his name is the important thing here.

Diagon Alley was a very busy place, with shops of every kind, and more varieties still of people visiting them. Tom was resolute in that he would not be coddled, so did not grip the Professor’s sleeve like he witnessed children doing with their parents in the busy street, but was quick on his feet to stay close to the man’s long stride.

Occasionally, people would tip their pointed hat to the man, and Albus simply explained that he had taught or gone to school with a lot of the families they passed. It boggled young Tom’s mind that so many people in the magical world knew the man, and wondered if their world was simply small, or if Albus was just well connected.

They entered an intimidating marble building, manned by fierce Goblins, Albus had not said a word about his misdemeanour at the orphanage again, but did give him a significant look as they passed the warning plaque on the doors about thieves.

Tom was wearing his cleanest clothes, but could not have felt more out of place in the sparkling bank, Albus made the arrangements for a scholarship allowance to purchase Tom’s school supplies, and before they left, Tom spoke up.

“Excuse me, I was wondering if you could check for any accounts that my mother or father may have had here? I’m trying to find out about my family.” He asked politely, doing his best to mimic Albus’ accent to sound more like the other customers in the bank. He had realised that the twang of cockney he was used to was not a common sound here.

The goblin peered down at him, “Family name?” 

“Well, I’m not sure of my mother’s family name, but my father is Tom Riddle Sr I think? I’ve been told that Marvolo was my mother’s father, just not… sure of the surname...” He trailed off, looking up at Albus for help.

Albus stepped closer to the teller and lowered his voice, “I believe that his grandfather may be Marvolo Gaunt.” 

“Ah, I see.” The goblin said, “I can arrange for an appointment with the account manager, and a blood test to confirm lineage. Return later at… two o’clock sharp to speak with Razortooth.”

“Thank you sir.” Tom smiled at the goblin, who ignored him. Albus guided Tom out of the bank.

Albus had many thoughts on the appointment, none of which he had shared with Tom. From the records he had looked at before picking Tom up, the Gaunt family were destitute, insane from inbreeding, the last “pure” descendants of Salazar Slytherin. He was surprised they had an account manager at all.

With their appointment in mind, they rushed to get Tom’s robes, one casual outfit (which Tom insisted on changing into for the rest of the trip), books, potions ingredients and other equipment. His trunk had to be bought secondhand, as did most of the books, but Albus took pity on the boy and spelled the trunk to be weightless as strongly as he could, with any luck it would last until September 1st. 

Their last stop before returning to the bank was Olivanders’ Wand Shop.

“Albus! Welcome, welcome, who is this young lad?” The sprightly man had white creeping into his brows, and he fixed watery blue eyes on Tom. The eyes almost felt like they were scanning him, and Tom wasn’t fond of the unnerving feeling in the shop.

“New Hogwarts student, Tom Riddle.” Albus smiled, and nudged Tom forwards to be measured for his wand.

“It is good to meet you, young Master Riddle.” Olivander then shuffled off to the aisles and aisles of wands behind the counter while his measuring tape took measurements on it’s own. The odd man returned with an armful of boxes for a bemused Tom to try.

After an anxious fifteen minutes, and a broken window or two, Tom finally felt something in a wand that practically sang to him. He waved it and felt – _right –_ there was no other word for it. He barely noticed the sparks, so wrapped in the feeling of connection to his magic. It was more than any sensation he’d felt when performing accidental or wandless magic, that sort of thing seemed pale. 

He was so focused, he missed Albus moving to pay the man, he only looked up from his wand when a hand moved into his vision to take it and wrap it up for him. Olivander smiled in understanding at him, Tom wanted to scowl in response, but instead stiffly handed over the precious wood to be wrapped.

“That was seven galleons for one Yew wand with Phoenix feather core, thirteen and a half inches. Take care of it, young man, and it will take care of you, always.” Tom stared at the man at that advice, wondering if wands could really take care of a person, were they sentient?

He did not spend long on the thought though, as Albus rushed him out of the store and back up the street towards Gringotts’ Bank. They managed to get into the queue for a teller with five minutes to spare. There was only one person ahead of them.

“Good day, we have an appointment with Razortooth, two o’clock sharp.” Albus smiled at the unimpressed Goblin, who waved forward a younger looking goblin.

“I will lead you to Account Manager Razortooth’s office, please follow me.” The young goblin moved with haste, and Tom felt like running to keep up. Annoyingly, all Albus had to do was lengthen his stride slightly.

After several twists and turns, Tom was sure they were about to be lost when they stopped at a little door. The runner tapped twice, sharply on the door, and opened it for them. Albus had to stoop low to step through with Tom. The manager seemed old, but the office was humble compared to the rest of the bank they had seen so far.

“Ah yes, the mysterious boy who has come to claim the Gaunt account. Do sit.” He greeted them, getting straight to business.

“As your birth was never registered with the ministry, you were not, until now, eligible for access to any vaults. The current members of the Gaunt family have not touched their vaults in years, what little is in them, and we do so hate it when our customers cease business without warning.” The goblin explained, retrieving from his desk a small bowl and parchment.

“This bowl and parchment are used for blood tests, from there we can ascertain your magical heritage. There is a small fee...” Razortooth grinned at Albus with all of his teeth showing, after a moment, Albus removed a few shiny Galleons from his pocket and placed them on the desk.

“Will this cover the fee?” He enquired, pretending to miss the grateful look Tom sent him.

“Adequately. Now, young man, place your hand in the bowl, and we’ll get on with this.” Tom was unsure but leaned over the desk and placed his hand palm down in the bowl. Razortooth uttered a guttural word, to Tom’s surprise, and felt a sharp sensation, as a spike shot out of the bowl and scratched his palm. He couldn’t retract his hand from the bowl if he tried, he felt a resistance stopping him. When the bowl had a small puddle of his blood, not more than just covering the bottom of the bowl, the spike retracted and his palm healed over as if it had not been damaged.

Tom looked at his hand in amazement, the whole process had taken seconds. Razortooth spoke another spell, over the blood, and poured it from the bowl onto the parchment.

Even Albus leaned forward in interest as the results sprawled over the page. The goblin delicately lifted the parchment and peered through glasses at the page.

“You are the son of Merope Gaunt, deceased, heiress to the Gaunt… Estate, and heiress of Slytherin. Your paternal line is not shown as our test is for magical lines only. As Marvolo Gaunt, your grandfather, and his son Morfin, are both incarcerated, they are unable to come forward to claim any titles or accounts, so you may choose to take up either family name at this time. If Morfin, your uncle, comes forward after the end of his sentence, you will have to forfeit the title subject to status.” Razortooth explained in a bored tone.

“I… see.” Tom looked from Razortooth to Albus and back, he did not want to ask for help at this point, but wasn’t sure where to begin with the prospect of having his own Estate.

“May we confer for a moment?” Albus requested, smiling amiably at the account manager, and patting Tom on the shoulder. 

“I have another appointment shortly, be swift.” Razortooth informed them, stepping away from his desk and through a door the pair hadn’t spotted until then.

“It is your choice what to do with the accounts, Tom.” Albus informed him gently.

“Are the names Gaunt and Slytherin well known in the wizarding world?” Tom asked, fate held it’s breath for Albus’ answer.

“In a small world such as this, there will be people who have heard of your family. Some may judge you for the actions of those before you. You could take control of the account and keep your name as well. I hope you know that while at Hogwarts, myself and the staff will be happy to guide you through any questions you think of later.” Albus tried to summarise, “You’ll find people thinking of your grandfather if you take the name Gaunt, and people will think of your oldest ancestor if you take the name Slytherin, it is very well known. You can, of course, forge your own path with either.”

Tom took a moment to digest this.

“What was it exactly that my grandfather did? I noticed that Razortooth mentioned I have an uncle? Do you think he knows about me?” Tom asked quickly.

“I don’t know all the details, I’m afraid… Marvolo Gaunt was sentenced to Azkaban for casting curses on both a muggle and a ministry official. His son assisted him and was also sentenced, but for a lesser time. Azkaban is the wizard prison.” Albus told him, “It was a quick trial, I imagine that they do not know about you.”

“Oh.” Tom was disappointed that his only living relatives were criminals, would people think that he was a criminal too if he took the name?

“Why is Slytherin such a well known name?” He asked instead.

“At Hogwarts, students are sorted into four houses based on their attributes, Slytherin is one of those houses, named after one of the co-founders.” Albus told him, carefully choosing his words.

There was a sharp rap on the door, which was their only warning for Razortooth re-entering the office. He took his seat, and looked at both men.

“Well?” He growled out.

“I- I would like to take on the accounts, and be known as Thomas Marvolo Gaunt...” Tom declared, heart pounding.

“Are you sure, my boy?” Albus asked, surprised.

“Yes! Slytherin is too well known… I could never live up to that, but maybe I can take my mother’s family name in a new direction…” He mused, clenching his fists as doubt set in immediately.

“Very good, young Master Gaunt, you will need to sign these, with Albus Dumbledore signing as witness… Thank you.” The goblin eyed the messy and loopy signatures with a critical eye, before pulling out more parchment.

“This is a statement of your accounts, Vaults 107 and 1023. The total value of money is stated here, 18 galleons, 6 sickles, 12 knuts. There are also some items in the vaults of uncertain value, as they have not been valued, listed in the inventory, and a deed to a property in Little Hangleton. Here are your keys,” The goblin handed over two golden keys. 

“Please remember to bring them when you wish to access the vaults. Further, your scholarship fund will be renewed directly to the Gaunt Vault in the future on the 1st August for each school year. Will there be anything else today?” 

Tom didn’t even know what to ask, peering at the documents and keys he had been handed. Albus interceded for him.

“To clarify, what is Tom’s familial status now?” Albus prompted.

“Heir presumptive for both House Gaunt and House Slytherin. I hope our meetings will be most lucrative in future. Ask for me next time you require an appointment, or write to me in advance if you are able. Good day.” Razortooth gestured to the door, and it opened, revealing the runner goblin that had escorted them before.

“Thank you!” Tom said a little belatedly as he was halfway out of the door, fate changed.

Albus chuckled.

~


	3. Thursday 1st September 1938

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom leaves Wool’s Orphanage.

Matron Cole fussed once more, brushing imaginary dust from his uniform before they parted.

“Now, Tom, you must behave at this school, it is not oft’ that a lad like yourself will get this chance. Stand up straight, keep your nose clean, and study hard. If all goes well, I will be here at the end of your summer term to pick you up. The wrap around care at that school is ever so good… fancy them being open over the winter season too!” She seemed flustered, Tom only sighed.

“I’ll be good Ma’am, you won’t hear a peep from me. I’ll only write to confirm my return in the summer.” He assured her, dreading having to think about coming back to the orphanage at all.

“Good lad, have you got everything?” He nodded, “Well then, in you go, got your ticket? Good, enjoy the train ride, have a good school year.” 

She patted his shoulder and opened the door for him. Thankfully his trunk was still suspiciously light weight from Dumbledore’s charm – Tom had refused help to carry it so far, much to the chagrin of others who felt his trunk was very fine and wished to be seen with it.

His excitement at going away to school slipped out in the form of a small grin to the woman, and then he was gone, counting platforms to find platforms nine and ten. 

_ “Remember Tom, there is a trick to getting onto the platform, much like how you must tap bricks to get into Diagon Alley. The third pillar between platforms nine and ten will allow a magical person to walk through as if nothing is there at all. Simply try not to attract too much attention to yourself when you do so.”  _ Dumbledore had said to him before dropping him back off at the orphanage nearly a month ago.

August had been the quietest month the orphanage had seen in a long time, Tom had been excitedly reading his books and memorising all he could. The professor had even waited for Tom to extract a few more galleons from his small family vault so that he could get some extra books. Hogwarts: A History was simply fascinating.

The train station was very busy, and Tom wondered how many of them could be muggles, and how many were masquerading, like him. The thought was thrilling.

He slowed and watched the pillar he thought might be the right one as he spotted it, after a few moments, he saw a woman and child stride briskly toward it and disappear. Confidence, it seemed, was key.

He took a deep breath, he could do this.

~ 


	4. Wednesday 6th January 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Big time skip! Fifth year: Tom meets Aragog, and we find out a bit about what he gets up to in his spare time.

His prefect badge gleamed on his chest, there was not a hair out of place on his head, Tom sat at the centre of the outermost bench of the Slytherin table for dinner. Life at Hogwarts was good. 

As he had declared many years ago, he had worked to be the best version of himself he could present to the world – top of every class, friends and acquaintances in all houses, he was even known to take tea with the deputy headmaster, Albus Dumbledore, once a month.

Thomas Gaunt was known in the pureblood circles as a particularly successful half-blood, his Slytherin lineage made up for his estranged muggle relations, he had proved time and again that he was not disadvantaged magically in any way.

He had never reached out to Marvolo and Morfin, they were acknowledged even by hardcore blood purists as criminally insane, and he preferred his heritage to remain his. In his third year, he had written to Razortooth extensively about investments and growing wealth. 

At the time, he’d had 10 galleons in his account. Consulting with his close friend, Abraxas Malfoy, and his account manager, he’d been granted a small loan and bought a few shares in the Comet Trading Company, which had seen success following the release of the Comet 180 in late 1938. The investment had seen a decent return when he sold his shares after the press release for their newest model, and bought a share in their equally profitable rival: the Cleansweep Trading Company. There was a rumour that they were working on something even more exciting for the Holyhead Harpies. He’d managed to pay back Malfoy without bankrupting himself, and was very pleased with his burgeoning independence.

It was a start, anyway. He wouldn’t be leaving school in his seventh year with nothing at all behind him. He was thinking of seeing what the market was like for Apothecaries next.

At present, Tom watched with narrow eyes as Rubeus Hagrid rushed out of the great hall, the first out of dinner yet again, financial matters far from his mind.

He stood swiftly, abandoning his dinner to follow the half-giant out of the hall. He knew how foolish the rumours of the opening of the Chamber of Secrets was, as he’d accessed it in his second year and made good friends with the Basilisk inside. A quick word with Albus had seen the house elves arranging delivery of food to the chamber every week for the huge snake.

Still, if she was not causing the feeling of unease in the school, what could it be? 

Hagrid, with an unsurprising lack of stealth, went into the dungeons and eventually to a disused broom cupboard. Tom stayed back and eyed the other’s actions. A rasping and chittering voice answered the low grumbling tones of Hagrid, unsettled and curious, Tom edged forwards and nudged the door open further.

He was shocked at the large acromantula peeking out of the dusty trunk. 

“Snake-man!” It rasped, fighting Hagrid’s attempts to subdue it. Hagrid frowned heavily at Tom’s presence, and snarled when Tom lifted his wand and aimed at the spider.

“NO! He’s only little still!” Hagrid insisted.

“Little?!” Tom was incredulous at this, the beast was half their size.

“Yer scaring him!” 

“Why is he even in here?!” 

Hagrid finally managed to wrestle the spider back into the trunk and closed the lid, which Tom sealed shut with a quick _Colloportus._

They both stood panting for a second.

“Hagrid, why do you have a class XXXXX creature in a trunk in the school?” Tom asked, enunciating every word through gritted teeth.

“He’s not dangerous...” Hagrid said, a little unsure, “Been raising him since he was just an egg, he hasn’t got other family than me.”

“I’m fairly certain that an Acromantula is not listed on the allowed pets list.” The slytherin dead-panned, troubled by the response. This was the third time that Hagrid had been caught with a creature he shouldn’t have, and the boy was only in third year!

Never mind that he towered over Tom in height.

“I can’t just abandon him.” Hagrid continued, wringing his wand in his hands anxiously, “Please Tom, help us.”

Wondering to himself how he always ended up in these situations, Tom lowered his wand at last from the trunk and rubbed his temples, trying to think of a non-lethal solution.

What would Dumbledore do? He thought, better yet, maybe he could get Dumbledore to handle the whole thing?

“Listen, Hagrid, I’ll try to help, but you need to stop bringing creatures in, you’re not Newt Scamander for merlin’s sake. If you want to be a magizoologist one day, great, but you can’t do it here, you’ll get expelled. Luckily, you’re a Gryffindor, and I know where Dumbledore’s quarters are. Let’s lock this door behind us, and go get him, he’ll probably know someone who has a safe place for… it.” He suggested, exasperated. The boy nodded shakily, and shuffled out of the room.

Tom followed and locked the door behind them. It was well after dinner by now, so he headed straight to his mentor’s rooms. They were silent for the first half of the walk, he could practically sense the cloud of doom that had settled over the Gryffindor next to him, the boy dragged his feet as they made their way up the stairs.

“So, uh, what did Aragog mean, ya know, with the snake-man thing?” Hagrid asked eventually.

“You named that thing?” Tom didn’t think he could get more aghast, yet… “Well, he’s an Acromantula, if I remember Care of Magical Creatures right, their natural enemies are snakes. I can speak to snakes, as you may know, and actually know one or two, maybe that’s what it meant? I wonder if they can sense parselmouths?” 

They both considered this silently, then, “Yeah, you’re probably right. S’gonna be so hard to see the little guy go.” Hagrid sounded dangerously close to tears, and Tom lengthened his stride, wanting this to be over quickly.

“Blood pops.” He told the portrait, and they stepped through into a modest sitting room. Hagrid threw himself onto the sofa, still distraught, and Tom waited patiently for the professor to appear.

Not a moment too soon, Albus walked through from another room and greeted them.

“Good evening Tom, Rubeus. How can I help you two this evening? Wasn’t the lemon tart just wonderful at dinner?” He smiled at them and took a seat in an armchair by the fireplace.

“Good evening, sorry to disturb you, sir, but there’s a bit of a creature problem in the dungeons.” Tom explained quickly, breezing past the pleasantries.

Hagrid howled as if wounded, so suddenly that Tom pointed his wand at him reflexively in shock, the boy cried and explained to Dumbledore - “It’s Aragog, I know I shouldn’t have him here, but he doesn’t have anyone else!”

The professor only looked mildly alarmed, to his credit, and moved to comfort Hagrid, patting his shoulder and looking to Tom for further explanation.

“ _Aragog_ is an Acromantula the size of a first year, sir.” 

“I see. Come now Hagrid, I’d love to meet him - I know Newt Scamander you know, and I think he’d have a place for Aragog in his menagerie, no need to fret… that’s it...” The professor eased Hagrid from hysterics down to sobs, then to gentle hiccups and summoned his cloak, as it could be cold in the dungeons.

“There is an abandoned broom cupboard in the northwest corridor, near the portrait of Mark Sommertime. I locked both the door, and a large old trunk inside containing the spider.” Tom informed him with distaste, “I have to start my prefect rounds now, sir, but please do send for me if there is anything else I can do.”

Albus looked searchingly at Tom, then smiled and nodded, “Off you go, Tom, I have this well in hand.”

~

_Monday 26th April 1943_

Despite being a well established young man in his own right, rubbing elbows with the most elite among his peers, in fact being _considered_ an elite young man, Thomas Gaunt, previously Tom Riddle Jr, couldn’t sleep at night.

He thought frequently about the muggle war, the world he was forced back to at the end of every school year. His blessedly wealthy friends barely had any idea of the horror, never knowing if the next siren would mean death. The rules on magic around muggles were strict, he wasn’t supposed to use it unless in dire circumstances - the only problem being, that the devastating nature of the war did not give much warning to protect oneself.

Not that things were looking much better in the magical world, Gellert Grindelwald was gaining traction and followers in Europe. It was unclear why it had yet to come to the United Kingdom, but for now it seemed the UK was safe from the magical war spilling over in the way the whole muggle world seemed to be at war.

Really, it was a good thing he was a prefect, the long walks for his rounds let him exhaust himself. There was something calming about the school at night. Occasionally, ghosts would pass him, and nod, the exception being Peeves, who would normally be around the great hall, trying to set a prank for the next morning. Even the portraits were quiet, gentle snores instead of gossip or reprimands. 

On the nights he did not have prefect duty, he would head to the seventh floor. The first night he’d wandered aimlessly, seamlessly avoiding the caretaker and other prefect’s routes from familiarity, and found a room he could shape to his will.

He’d requested books that would keep him awake, a place where he could train, a room with a view of far off places. Tom feared deeply that the wars going on would never end, he’d never see what was beyond his limited experience of the Orphanage and Hogwarts - which was still a school, no matter how fantastic. 

So he taught himself, learned about his ancestry - one had founded a school in America even. He couldn’t picture a country so large, a place which could take weeks to travel by muggle means, and more than a few portkeys by magical means, if you could get the permit to travel in the first place.

He also learned about other countries, how in Japan there were people who could use foci other than wands to conduct magic. Closely guarded secrets, but speculation about how effective a fan versus wand versus wandless (or in this case, foci-less) magic consumed Tom. The possibilities sparked something in him. 

Further theories, about how location could affect the strength of your magic boggled his mind. Did elemental magic truly exist? Could harnessing the power of ice be easier the closer one was to the poles of the earth? How far did elemental magic go? The obvious elements of water, air, fire and earth were interesting enough, but what about metals? Glass? Electricity?

So the young man passed the time, just about remembering to hand his assignments in on time, and forcing himself to be available in the common room for an hour after dinner most evenings for the younger years to come to him for study help or general queries that fell to him under his prefect duty.

Until, suddenly, it was getting warmer in the castle, O.W.L exams were approaching, and Dumbledore finally noticed something off about him.

_Mr Gaunt,_

_I would be delighted if you would join me for a cup of tea around 1pm on Saturday, it has been a while since our last chat._

_Kindly,_

_Albus P.W.B Dumbledore_

_Transfiguration Professor_

_Deputy Headmaster of Hogwarts_

_P.S. I picked up some Ice Mice in Hogsmeade last weekend, I do hope you like them!_

Tom squinted at the note through tired eyes, and looked up at the teacher’s table, nodding in acceptance at the professor. Saturday was two days away, he immediately put it from his mind and finished his toast quietly.

~


	5. Saturday 1st May 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom meets with Dumbledore, and dreads the end of the school year.

“ _ Ice mice _ .” The portrait opened and he stepped through into the familiar room.

“Tom! Do come in, my boy.” Dumbledore already had a teapot and two cups on the table, with a plate of biscuits and ice mice. Tom smiled faintly and drifted towards his usual seat closest to the door.

Albus poured him a cup of tea and added a dash of milk to the cup, smiling as he passed the cup to his student. Tom accepted the cup gratefully, and blew on it before taking a sip.

“This is good. Thank you, professor.” The older man smiled, and sipped at his own cup of tea, letting silence settle over them for a moment.

“I hope you are well Tom, I have seen several of my students in rather a state over the upcoming O.W.Ls already.” He began, watching the other, cataloguing the dark circles and the slight delay in response.

“I am well prepared for the exams, my peers are all studying hard in Slytherin, at the very least.” Tom told him eventually, nursing the cup once again and offering no further conversation. Albus sighed quietly, Tom was like a particularly stubborn walnut sometimes – he just didn’t open up on his own.

“I’m glad to hear that. Professor Slughorn has been singing your praises at the extra prefect duties you signed up for last month, I have to admit I was surprised. Surely, even you would like to get in some extra hours at the library instead, my boy.” Albus pried, putting his cup down and popping a biscuit into his mouth instead.

“It’s no issue, I have been reading ahead for some time, you know I do – how else would I be able to debate the effectiveness of purer metals in alchemical reactions with my favourite transfiguration professor?” Tom sat back in his chair elegantly, putting on a picture of pure relaxation, smiled even, at the other man. His eyes, though, did not smile with him.

Dumbledore did not smile back at him, and tented his fingers in front of his mouth in worry. Tom’s smile faded, recognising the concerned look he’d seen several times before. He sighed and also put his half-drained cup on the table, unlike Albus, he did not take a treat from the plate, but sat back without care or his normal strict posture.

“I don’t know what you want me to say, Albus.” Tom admitted, “You know as well as I that the end of the school year is a troubling time for all of us who must venture back into the muggle world.”

“It is troubling, I have appealed to Headmaster Dippet once more to allow muggleborns and those without safe residence, and their families refuge at Hogwarts during the summer, but the board of governors won’t hear of muggles in their school. They would never allow just one student to stay either, my hands are tied, my boy.” Albus explained mournfully. Tom clenched his fists and his jaw.

He was very familiar with the stance the other was describing, having heard it parroted back at him in the common room by his peers when he edged around the topic of the muggle war. Even his dear Abraxas had balked at the suggestion, spoken hypothetically after several shots of firewhisky on a Hogsmeade weekend. Muggle emergence into the magical world was considered bad news by even the comparatively blood traitorous families. Tom hadn’t cared much about them, but for the fact that he wanted to mask his own terror at having nowhere to hide from the war.

“I suppose.” Tom started, flexing his fingers and resisting the thought in his head that maybe a duel with the entire board of governors would make them see his point, “I suppose that when September comes, our dwindling numbers, the missing faces in the crowd, can rest on the conscience of every Wizard who refused them refuge.” He finished in a furious whisper, thoughts swirling angrily around Abraxas yet again. 

His suggestion of spending a week or two at Malfoy manor had been shot down, with the news that the family would be abroad for the whole summer. The refusal had felt like betrayal, and there were no others he would ask to visit, it was more their place to ask him to visit them, he felt. There was no chance either that he would visit the residence of his relatives, he had decided long ago that the only news he ever wanted to hear of them would be if they somehow redeemed themselves in the social circles, or if they perished. 

He knew which option was more likely, and he rarely thought of his birth father anymore, the man had given him a name, and Tom had cast off half of it already. It was his one truth: he wanted nothing to do with his blood relatives, inevitably he would be on his own. The orphanage provided little defence in weakened brick and mortar - Certain death could fall from the sky at any time, and though he could try to defend himself with magic (if he was lucky enough, quick enough to draw his wand), he would certainly be punished for exposing magic to muggles. 

So caught up in his thoughts, he barely noticed his harsher breathing, that he was leaning forward with his hands in his hair, pulling at the stands in his distress. Everything seemed to be tunnelling towards an early end, maybe Dumbledore would be the one to retrieve his wand and magical items from the wreckage to protect the Statute of Secrecy even…

“...Tom, look at me. It will be alright, things may seem overwhelming now, but you will get through this, my boy. You will.” Dumbledore had pulled his hands from his head and holding them firmly, was speaking with confidence to him; was, in fact, kneeling in front of him with such an earnest look in his twinkling eyes that Tom could barely stand to look in them.

“Will things be alright?” Tom ground out, “Will you still be parroting that at me when the muggles have raged fire over London? When even the orphanage stands no more? If I’m lucky enough to survive the summer and navigate the streets long enough to crawl into King’s Cross on the 1st of September, will things be alright then?”

The words were not coming to him any more, he felt that he had choked out all he could bear to say, he gripped Albus’ hands tightly and let go, sinking back into the chair, pulling his legs up into the chair with him. He did not look at the other, but if he had, he would have seen the remorseful tears on the professor’s face.

~

Following his outburst, Tom had felt ashamed. At some point, he’d fallen into a fitful sleep in the armchair, despite the early hour of the day, and when he awoke, he was in the hospital wing, curtains closed around his bed for privacy.

On the bedside, a calming potion, and a note to return weekly for a check up until the end of the school year. One sip every four hours at most to avoid adverse effects. He read, and reread the note, and grimaced at the potion before taking the smallest sip with reluctance. 

He knew that he couldn’t afford to have a breakdown like that with anyone but Dumbledore, the potion was a necessary evil, and he had to get through his O.W.Ls. Although, why he was bothering to worry about exams, when the world at large was going to hell, he didn’t know…

He changed out of the hospital pyjamas into the folded uniform on the chair by his bed and brushed his hair. The potion went into an inner pocket of his robe with a notice-me-not charm on it. Tom opened the privacy curtains, and let out a relieved sigh that no one else was around.

He headed quickly to the office to get permission to leave.

“Good evening, Mr Gaunt.” The matron greeted him, “I am pleased to see you up already, you’ve just missed dinner, but I can have something brought up for you.”

“Good evening, Matron. I am feeling much better thanks to your excellent care. I was hoping to be discharged so that I could rejoin my friends in the Slytherin common room…” Tom smiled at her with as much charm as he could muster.

“Hm,” She replied, casting a diagnostic charm over him, “I can see you have taken your first dose of the potion. That’s good, but all the same, I insist that you have a meal before you leave. You can go as soon as I’ve witnessed you clear a plate.”

With that, she summoned a house elf to bring him a balanced meal and a jug of water. Tom wasn’t pleased, but went back to his assigned bed to wait. Moments later a house elf popped in with the requested tray and jug, sank into a low bow and left without a word.

Tom eyed the heaps of vegetables, mashed potato and meat with a queasy eye, surely she hadn’t been serious when she had said to clear the entire plate… right?

~


	6. Monday 28th June 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom packs for the Hogwarts Express back to London, and receives an unexpected gift.

Tom was alone in his dorm room, casting every curse and ward he knew over his fully packed trunk to make it indestructible, and safe from anyone but him accessing it. He was already dreading the day ahead. Everyone else was at breakfast, excitedly discussing their summer plans no doubt. 

Tom exhaled heavily through his nose and clenched his teeth momentarily, forcing his anger away yet again. He’d managed to convince the matron to supply him with a supply of potions for the summer, having eventually opened up about his reasons for his breakdown in Dumbledore’s private quarters (as surprisingly, the man hadn’t told her himself), and she understood that it would be a stressful time for him.

It did mean, though, that he would have to talk about his summer with her upon returning for his 6th year though…. he shuddered at the thought, but was pleased that she was bound by healer’s oath to never discuss the things he told her.

That was a concern, he’d never thought about how Albus could maybe discuss what he’d expressed in their private tea sessions before, but he was glad of the indication that the man was not inclined to do so. Even with that, though, Tom refused to discuss the upcoming summer with the professor again, sticking strictly to discussions about the exams, and alchemy, and how magic was taught abroad.

Abroad. The thought fascinated him still. Maybe one day, he’d get to go - maybe he’d find a place out there where muggles were not to be so feared. Maybe he’d find a place where he wouldn’t feel-

He shook his head to dispel the thought, focusing again on preparing himself for the trip back to London. He had put on a close approximation of the orphanage uniform (smart grey trousers, crease-free buttoned shirt, grey blazer), as he would have to wear it when he got back, and put on his robes over the top to hide the muggle clothing from his peers. 

Everything was packed, his trunk was warded to the teeth, and charmed to be weightless for the next few days. Tom took a deep breath and looked painfully around the dorm room, then grabbed his trunk by the handle and carried it to the entrance hall where piles of luggage had been left. Students could be lazy at times, leaving it close to the exit so they could frolic for a few more hours before carrying it down to Hogsmeade train station.

Tom didn’t have intentions of frolicking, per say, but he did leave his trunk there with a notice-me-not charm applied, and headed up the many staircases to the seventh floor.

_ I need a place where I’m safe. I need a place where I can defend myself. I need a place where I can read about other magical cultures. _

Tom paced the familiar stretch of corridor, and his shoulders sagged when the door appeared. He let himself in quickly, and locked the door behind him. If the room looked anything like Albus’s sitting room, he refused to acknowledge it. He claimed the squashiest armchair, and summoned a book from the many shelves, and settled in to read for a few hours. He set an alarm, and let go of all thoughts that would distract him from  _ Exotic Rituals of The Most Ancient and Magical Tribes of Africa _ . 

~

It was a surprise when his alarm went off, Tom jolted upright from his slouched position and cast tempus in a panic. A sinking feeling settled into his gut. With much reluctance he stood and stretched carefully, the half-read book flew back to it’s shelf when discarded.

Everything in him screamed to stay in the room of requirement, surely no one would know? No one could force him to leave? Except… They probably could, and would. Tom couldn’t risk his chance to come back by risking expulsion from the school. With a heavy heart, he left the room and started the trek down to the entrance hall.

He was halfway down the final staircase when a booming voice called his name.

“TOM!” Alarmed, Tom swiveled on the spot to see Hagrid running towards him, his hand reached for his wand but didn’t draw it straight away. The younger boy stopped a few feet from him and grinned sheepishly, catching his breath.

“Sorry ‘bout that.” Hagrid apologised, “I never seem to be able to catch yer. Anyway, I wanted to thank you for your help with Aragog back in January, got a letter the other day telling me that he’s settled into his new home and even found a mate, I’m so happy for ‘im. Couldn’t have been done without you, so… thanks.”

“Er… You’re welcome?” Tom felt queasy at the thought of that thing breeding, and resolved to never get involved with Hagrid’s creature fascination again.

“Anyway, as thanks, I worked with professor Dumbledore - well he did most of it I s’ppose - but yeah, we made you this.” Hagrid offered a badly wrapped present and beamed at him. Tom gingerly took the package from him, inspecting it with a sceptical eye. 

“Thank… you, Rubeus.” Tom managed.

“Open it soon!” Hagrid smiled at him once more and ran off to catch up with his housemates.

Confused and curious, Tom sat down on the stairs and eyed the package again, praying to whoever might be listening that it wasn’t spider eggs.

When the wrappings were removed, he found a black, rectangular box inside. Carefully opening it, he discovered, on a velvety bed, a silver bookmark nestled there. His name was etched on the front in a regal font.

Amazed, and confused at the choice of gift, Tom picked it up out of the box and turned it over in his hands. On the back, inscribed, was ‘Hogwarts’, in the same regal font. He admired it for a moment longer and looked back inside the box. There was a note in Albus’ handwriting.

_ Tom, _

_ I know that the next 8 weeks will be difficult, so it was a great pleasure to help Rubeus with this gift for you. If you tap your wand on the Hogwarts side, it will reveal an image of the castle to help you remember that you will be coming back. Hope is one of the strongest positive forces in this world, hold onto it when all seems dark. _

_ Further, I am sorry again that I was unable to sway the board of governors to allow you and your fellow worried peers to stay at Hogwarts this summer. _

_ Stay safe, Tom. _

_ Albus P.W.B Dumbledore _

Tom was stunned - angry that Dumbledore had failed - but inordinately pleased at the thoughtfulness of the gift. He’d never received anything quite like it before.

He turned it over in his hands a few times, and tapped the Hogwarts side with his wand. The vision of Hogwarts (though narrow) was beautiful, they’d chosen the image of sunset falling over the lake, the castle was spectacular.

He smiled.

~


	7. Friday 20 August 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A snapshot of the summer.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, in reality the Blitz was 07 Sept 1940 -11 May 1941, so for the purposes of the story, I’ve shifted that back a month i.e. it happened from august-april instead, otherwise Tom would not have experienced it. Here we see how it has impacted him on a personal level.

Tom was paler than he’d ever been, curled up under a thin blanket. You might have thought him asleep, since his eyes were shut, but for the book clutched tightly in his arms, and the tremors of his body.

Being back in the Orphanage had been more hellish than usual. Haunted still by the dropping of the bombs only two years prior, he was not the only one who awoke with fear in their heart. He saw too many dark circles, too many children flinching if a car going past backfired too loudly. 

He unwillingly saw them as the first years who came to him for homework sometimes, but never approached - he may have been terrified, but he would be allowed to escape soon enough, less than two weeks until his return to Hogwarts. Often, on the nights he couldn’t sleep, he would pull the sheet over his head, extract the bookmark he’d been gifted at the end of term, and activate the portrait window.

It made his chest ache in a way he couldn’t put to words - and oh, he had tried to put it into words this summer. A well meaning business owner had dropped off diaries for all of the orphans, the finest notebooks they’d ever seen. Unable to write to his friends - or acquaintances, rather, since no friend would willingly abandon him like this surely? - He wrote page after page, using up what ink he’d had left after finishing his summer homework assignments. 

When his Hogwarts letter had arrived, he’d taken to Diagon Alley and spent most of the day there, dragging his feet at the thought of returning. He’d miserably treated himself to a meal at the Leaky Cauldron even, knowing that it was the only un-rationed meal he’d see all summer. He did wonder how the magical world could be so rich in meats and fresh vegetables while the muggle world rationed everything out so carefully.

Regardless, he’d picked up a stash of self-inking quills with the rest of his school supplies, deciding that the higher price than a regular quill and ink was worth it. He’d considered buying a stash of sweets as well from Honeydukes sister store in Diagon Alley, but grit his teeth and decided against it, not wanting to risk being caught with the sugary treats in the orphanage - the children would skin him to get at them, he was sure.

… Although, one chocolate frog for Dementor-related emergencies was a must. The box was wrapped in an old shirt at the bottom of his trunk. 

All of these thoughts, and more fluttered through his mind, his eyes twitched beneath his eyelids, and he nearly fell asleep, but for the sound of footsteps on the street below. His heart always pounded at moments like these - could it be a drunk? A soldier? A German soldier? Dumbledore, even, come to fetch him early for school?

He held his breath, but no more sound was forthcoming, and he let out a sigh. Finally, he opened his eyes, taking in the darkness of the room. His window was still blacked out, barely any light came in from the moonlight outside. Knowing it was very late, and no one else in the building seemed to be stirring, Tom slowly extracted his wand from his pillowcase, and opened the book he’d been clutching so tightly.

Moments later, the soft light of the portrait lit his face. His eyes greedily took in the details of the eternal sunset over Hogwarts for the hundredth time, and again, his heart ached.  _ Home.  _ Of any place he had been, he was sure that Hogwarts was his true home, but still…

What  _ other  _ homes could he discover? His traitorous heart hoped that he would be able to find out one day. Reaching under his bed, his fingertips found the self-inked quill he’d put there earlier, and he propped himself up to write in the dim light. For only his eyes, and only his heart to know, he wrote about the places he’d like to visit one day - lavish starlight in his mind’s eye, the sunset from the perspective of another land.

~


	8. Saturday 4th September 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore checks in on Tom, Tom hangs out with his peers for once.

“Good morning, Professor.” Tom greeted, nodding his head at the older man.

“Good morning, Tom, I thought it would be prudent to catch up before you are too laden with NEWT homework to leave the library.” They shared a short chuckle, and took their usual seats in the modest sitting room.

“So, if you don’t mind skipping the niceties, I admit I was concerned to not hear from you all summer, do you wish to talk about it?” Professor Dumbledore asked, sipping his cup of tea but looking intently at his student.

Tom raised his eyebrows and took a long sip of his tea, and a deep breath, before answering.

“You may be aware, I do not own an owl… that said, I admit I could have sent a note from Diagon Alley when I completed my school shopping. I spent the summer completing my summer assignments, studying for the upcoming school year, and helping with chores at the Orphanage. Somehow, the building is still standing, so that’s something.”

“I am glad you are safe, Tom.” Professor Dumbledore admitted, “I hope you know that my door remains open to you this year if you wish to talk. I saved my copies of  _ Transfiguration Weekly  _ and  _ Alchemical Essays _ from this summer. I'm considering asking Headmaster Dippet if we can add a magazine section to the library so that more students can access them.”

“A bold suggestion, I do hope though that there will not be a lobbying for  _ Witch Weekly  _ to join the shelves,” Tom grimaced at the thought, “Academic journals are a good idea though, thank you for saving your copies.”

“You’re very welcome, Tom. Thank you for meeting me for morning tea, my boy. I’ll let you get back to your friends, and your studies. Do come back soon.” 

“Good day, professor.”

“Good day, Tom.”

~

Tom entered the Slytherin Common Room with the small stack of magazines in his arms, and saw his peers sat by the fire with a chessboard between them.

“Good day, gentlemen.” He greeted, and took up the spare space on the leathery sofa.

“Hey Gaunt, Dumbledore loading you up with extra reading again?” It was Avery who spoke up, “Knight to G7.”

“Alchemy and Transfiguration. You may borrow them when I’m done if you like.” Tom replied graciously.

“Are you mad? I already have extra reading for Arithmancy and Runes! Thanks, but no.” Avery looked up with panic.

“Relax, Avery, we’ve only been back for three days, how bad can it be?” His opponent, Lestrange, spoke up, “Pawn to F4.”

“I’ll show you how bad it can be, you-” Avery whirled around and flicked his wand at him. A rather bulbous pimple appeared instantly on Lestrange’s nose.

“Oi! I have a date later, you bastard!” Chessboard forgotten, Lestrange ran to their Dorm room to fix the blemish.

Tom chuckled at their antics, “Don’t tell me he’s after Lucretia again?”

“Oh no, he’s only been flirting with Walburga by owl post all summer. He’ll be lucky if he doesn’t get his bits cursed off by Lord Black at this point.” Rosier leaned back, abandoning his Charms essay, everyone laughed at the thought, and fell into gossip about their summers once more.

Tom was always evasive during these discussions and by now, his -friends?- let him get away with it. He’d already completed the two essays he’d been set in the class earlier in the week and flicked idly through the magazines he’d been given, making mental notes of which ones he’d come back to later.

“-Cousin that Grindelwald might make a move on England soon, the muggles wouldn’t even notice with their war going on if he did suddenly start blasting his way through our cities as well I suppose.”

“What?” Tom appeared to tune back into the conversation as the mention of war reached him.

“I know! My mother has said over and again that my Aunt should pack up her family and get out of Germany for a while now, but Auntie keeps insisting that their wards are ‘ _ strong enough to keep out a hoard of angry Goblins’ _ , let alone, and these are her words, ‘ _ amateur Durmstrang graduates.’ _ ” Avery continued, putting on a high girlish tone to impersonate his aunt.

“Do you really think that Grindelwald will make a move on Britain though? He’s seemed content enough to move across the continent so far, I thought he was moving towards Eastern Europe?” Tom queried, magazines forgotten.

“Maybe he thinks that we’ll be an easy target given the successes he’s had in other countries?” Lestrange contributed as he rejoined them, rubbing his nose distractedly.

“Maybe… Hey, do you think we should brush up on defence? Just in case?” Rosier looked worried, and started to dig around in his bag for his textbook.

“Whichever way you look at it… whether he comes to recruit or destroy, maybe it would be a good idea.” Avery replied nervously, tension starting to settle over the group.

“Library?” Tom asked, standing up.

“Library.” They echoed.

~

So it was that the group of 6th years spent their Saturday afternoon in the library making notes on defensive spells from every book they could feasibly borrow; everything from their textbook  _ Advanced Defence Against the Dark Arts by Galatea Merrythought _ to _ The Dark Forces: A Guide to Self-Protection by Quentin Trimble  _ to  _ Confronting The Faceless _ , which wouldn’t be their textbook until next year _. _

Halfway through the anxiety-driven study session, Tom started to think to himself that they would need more powerful spells than those they had already read about. He eyed the restricted section with an eager eye, wondering how accommodating Dumbledore would be if he asked him - maybe he could spin the tale better to Slughorn to get a permission slip…

Even so-called amateurs from Durmstrang Institute would be versed in Dark Arts better than any Hogwarts student, how could they fight Dark Arts without knowing at least the theory? He thought further on the magic he’d read about in the Room of Requirement the year before. For all of the exotic rituals he had read, nothing had  _ seemed  _ dark about it to him - so perhaps there were restrictions on the room after all? It seemed unlikely that there would not be any books on Dark Arts at all within the school that it could not access.

“Avery, Lestrange, Rosier,” He murmured, the other three looked up, “Do you think that this will be enough?” Tom gestured to the books they had open on the table.

“I bloody well hope so!” Lestrange hissed back, throwing his quill down in frustration.

“I just meant…” Tom lowered his voice to a whisper, “What about actual Dark Arts? I bet Grindelwald’s followers know more than  _ Protego  _ and  _ Stupefy _ to defend themselves, right?”

“Probably, but I already looked.” Rosier piped up.

“Not in there, though.” Tom nodded in the direction of the restricted section.

“Old Sluggie would give you access, Tom, he already invited you to the first Slug Club party of the year right?” Rosier replied, scribbling another note on his parchment, “While you’re at it, get us a spare classroom to practice in!”

Tom rolled his eyes at the other, he hadn’t told any of them about the Room of Requirement, where he had fully intended to practice, and still didn’t want to, so he would have to be extra charming with the Head of Slytherin - perhaps some crystallised pineapple…

~


	9. Friday 10th September 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom reads a particular book, and gets inspired by prime numbers.

Dark eyes glittered as he grasped the dusty volume, Tom doubted anyone had read  _ Secrets of the Darkest Art _ in the restricted section for a very long time. Words had jumped out at him while flicking through the pages, and in particular…  _ Horcrux. _

If he were so inclined, he would jump for joy, it seemed like the solution to his fears - that awful vulnerability that came with living could be erased, he could take his soul as something physical and protect it with magics that muggles and wizards could never surpass. If his body perished, he would not disappear into the void, or heaven, or hell - depending on what you believed - to be bound to the mortal Earth as an  _ immortal _ …

It was knowledge he scarcely wanted to share with his peers, as helpful as they had been in compiling lists of spells to learn. Getting a blanket pass from Professor Slughorn for research in the restricted section had been easy enough, but happily, Tom was the only one with the pass, and he would keep this knowledge for himself - a haze of distrust and euphoria took over him as he stood in the dark aisles, book in hand, weak moonlight streaming in from a window nearby.

He fought internally - the insidious ritual was complicated, and he needed clarification; further, he hadn’t thought through the whole concept of murderous sacrifice yet - but who to ask? Who to sacrifice? Another part of him was sickened at the thought of splitting his soul, some small part that had once listened to bible tales, and a larger part that sounded like Albus Dumbledore in his head that condemned benefitting from such heady violence.

He sighed with a sudden gush of air, tension draining from him, and he tucked the book into his robe pocket as he swiftly left the library - after all, the safest place for the knowledge was with him, whatever he decided to do.

~

After a few hours of sleep and a small breakfast, Tom was in the library again, writing a Charms essay assignment during his free period. The sound of quills scratching on parchment around him normally soothed his frayed nerves with the sheer  _ normality  _ of the environment - no fear of war, just school work and the fragrance of ink and dusty tomes - but today, the book hidden at the bottom of his book bag was practically calling to him, burning holes in his usually iron-willed concentration.

He grit his teeth and reread his paragraph on differences between nonverbal casting of basic charms like  _ Lumos  _ and more complex charms like  _ Expecto Patronum  _ again.

He managed to finish the essay with enough time to spare to leisurely make his way to Arithmancy, it was so easy for his mind to drift while he walked.... Would it really be so dreadful to split his soul? Would it hurt? If so, wouldn’t the pain be worth it to live forever? The thought of the developments and changes he could witness and make with unlimited time on his hands was thrilling - he would have time to visit every continent and master every form of magic, he could be the grandest wizard to ever live... 

The thought was dizzying, Tom considered skipping his next class to go to the Room of Requirement to study the ritual in more depth, but after a deep breath, he reset his composure and waited outside the room.

His classmates arrived in dribs and drabs, when the bell went, the 4th year class left and they were allowed to enter.

“Hello 6th years, now that we’ve completed our review of OWL material, we’ll begin looking at the application of prime numbers in spellcrafting, and rituals.” Tom sat at his desk and began to take notes, interest already piqued.

“You’ll already know from your summer assignments that wizards through the ages have looked to numbers that are deemed significant when constructing rituals and spells. For example, the number three has been very popular. Today, we will look at the base case of the hover charm,  _ Wingardium Leviosa,  _ and see what effect the spell would have, in theory, if we change the argument by a factor of ten.” The professor continued, waving her wand at the chalkboard, the original equation appearing there. There was a frantic scratching of quills to copy it down as she showed them which parts they could experiment with.

By the end, he was very glad that he had not skipped the lecture.

~

He was in the room of requirement, three reference books,  _ Secrets of the Darkest Art _ , and several rolls of parchment around him as he wrote more equations in his tidy handwriting.

“There’s no reference to more than one… surely Herpo must have…” Tom muttered to himself, scowling at the book, and rereading his calculations with a hawk-like gaze.

Tom knew his professor would be extremely disapproving of delving straight into the darkest of rituals off the back of basic spell modification, but that was the purpose of the reference guides around him, to back up his theory.

It had been halfway through the lesson that his mind had drifted to the Horcrux dilemma again, and he found himself wondering if it was possible to make more than one. Prime numbers. Numbers divisible by only the number one and themselves. 1, 2, 3, 5, 7, 11…

Would the application of a more powerful prime make his immortality more assured? The equations in front of him were convincing - three was especially powerful, he could only imagine how seven would work, as the most powerful magical number…

Seven. Surely not though? He reminded himself that the ritual required death to split the soul even once. Perhaps he would be able to use the ritual on someone already close to death, someone old… Maybe, even, he could change the ritual to split his soul into 7 equal pieces using the one death?

_ Death _ .

He shuddered and dropped his quill. Tom stood from the circle of notes and books and backed away from it. He found himself reminded of the other Gaunts in his family, and knew that he was flirting with the sort of darkness that there was no stepping back from.

Feeling tired and nauseous at once, he waved his wand over the notes and they packed themselves into his bag. It was halfway through dinner, maybe he could just go to the kitchens and get some soup, and put the whole thing out of his mind for the rest of the evening.

~


	10. Sunday 19th September 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Duelling and… hormones. With a face like that, Tom was bound to have a few propositions in his time. A touch of lighthearted awkwardness to come.

“ _Confringo_ !” Tom watched with a critical eye, the duel between Rosier and Lestrange, the explosive spell caused Lestrange to dive to one side, a hasty, “ _Protego!”_ blocking the follow-up stunner.

“ _Expelliarmus_!” Lestrange shouted, getting back on his feet, the spell veered wildly off target, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“Try to use non-verbal incantations, remember, the chance to surprise your enemy may buy you a few seconds if you are attacked.” He instructed, throwing a silent stinging spell at them both.

“Ouch! Tom, that was a bit uncalled for, mate.” Lestrange grumbled, then yelped as the other duellist cast _Incarcerous_ at him. He fell to the floor, wrapped tightly in rope, his wand rolled away from him.

Avery, who had been working on a potions essay in the corner laughed at Lestrange, and clapped for Rosier, who made a show of bowing to him and Tom after his victory.

“Well done, my friend.” Tom congratulated him, “Would you like to have a practice duel with me next?”

Avery gasped, “Go on, mate!” came from the still struggling Lestrange.

“Sure.” Rosier agreed easily, setting back into the standard stance.

Tom slunk onto the duelling platform, discarding his cloak as he went, and took out his wand. He sent a grin to his duelling partner, showing all of his teeth.

“On three?” Avery stood at the side of the platform, ready to mediate.

“1… 2… 3!” 

Silently, Tom went on the offensive immediately, wielding a variant of the incendio charm as a fiery whip, snapping at Rosier’s feet tauntingly. He raised his eyebrows in challenge, pleased when Rosier’s jaw clenched and the other used _Aguamenti_ in the same way.

Standing his ground, Tom twisted and suddenly lashed out the end of the fire whip slicing through the defensive water to wrap around Rosier’s wand. Rosier leapt back, only just holding onto his wand, panicking at the potential damage.

Tom let the fire dissipate and instead stepped forwards slowly, he moved his wand arm in a spiral, a wind building at his command. _Ventus!_ He willed the wind to gust at the other, with the intent of pushing him off the edge of the duelling platform. 

Surprising him, Rosier moved out of the way, just staying on the edge of the platform, and ran at him, conjuring birds which moved to attack Tom without hesitation.

“ _Expelliarmus_!”

“ _Protego_ !” Tom countered, and turned his focus to dispelling the birds. He turned them to glass, and like a shot, sent them back at Rosier. The other dodged the first two, and used a well timed _Finestra_ to shatter the others.

The shards of glass were vanished by Tom before Rosier could use them against him. 

“ _Fumos._ ” Tom whispered, and ducked low in the smoke screen. Moving quietly, he crept forward. Above, Rosier was squinting into the smoke, and cast _Ventus_ , which only spread the smoke out further.

Tom reached the other, and a whispered incantation had the other toppling, legs jerking uncontrollably from the jelly-legs jinx. Tom sprung forwards to wrestle Rosier’s wand from his hand, pinning him to the ground.

“Victory to Tom!” Avery cried out in delight, clapping.

Rosier let out a groan, and let his head fall back to the platform with a dull thud. Tom straddled him still, and ended the various active charms that remained, even freeing Lestrange from the ropes at last.

“Well, no shame in being beaten by the best I suppose.” Tom informed the other cheerfully, offering him back his wand. Rosier looked up, inscrutable for a moment before accepting his wand back. Tom stood, and offered him a hand, which Rosier took, also standing.

“I think I’ve had my fill of duelling for today. That was great, Tom!” He offered a smile to the taller boy, “I need more practice… but another day.”

“Well, we’ve only been practicing for a couple of weeks. We are all doing well.” Tom conceded, “It’s lucky that Professor Slughorn was able to provide a place for us to practice, really.”

They started to pack up their books and essays they had worked on earlier. The group of four headed back to the Slytherin Common Room to clean up before dinner. Lestrange stretched again and winced.

“I want to research a defence against that bloody spell before our next practice.” He grumbled.

“That’s not all you need to practice,” Avery quipped, “Merrythought is testing non-verbal casting on Wednesday.”

The boy let out a long groan, and the others snickered at his expense.

They entered the common room, and Lestrange was collared by Walburga instantly, who dragged him to a corner and cast a silencing charm. The others winced as she yelled at him, grateful for the charm that spared them her harpy tones.

“I’ll wait for him… I think he might need some backup.” Avery joked, heading to a table near the quarreling couple.

“Oh dear.” Rosier commented.

“Indeed. That won’t last much longer, will it?” Tom agreed, as the two headed to their dorm room.

“No, I’d be surprised if they are still together by the next Hogsmeade weekend.” 

“That’s next weekend.”

“I know.” They both laughed at their friend’s misfortune.

“Say… Tom, do you have plans for Hogsmeade yet?” Rosier asked casually, dropping his book bag by his bed.

“No, I wasn’t going to go actually, I was going to use the time to research more things in the restricted section while the castle is mostly empty…” Tom informed him, loosening his tie and sitting on the edge of his bed. He let out a small yawn, somehow it had been a long week again.

“That’s a shame. I was hoping you’d spend the day with me, I know a place where we can get some firewhisky.” Rosier suggested, stepping forwards to where Tom was sitting.

“Evan, I really should use the day for studying.” Tom looked up at the other, who looked down at him with an expression of growing desire.

“Take a day off,” Rosier moved into Tom’s space further, “You already proved yourself when you had your way with me today.” He stepped into the space between Tom’s legs, and placed his hand on Tom’s face, fingertips brushing his ear.

“I told you last year that I’m not doing the whole dating thing.” Tom told him, staring up into grey eyes.

“That was last year. Come with me, Tom.” Evan commanded him gently, “Just a few hours, studying with you is fun, let’s hang out.”

Tom covered Evan’s hand with his own, and pulled the hand off of his face. The other stepped away, disappointment on his face. Tom sighed heavily, and rolled his eyes.

“Just a few hours, then.” Tom acquiesced.

Evan’s face lit up in triumph.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I figured that in his 6th year, Tom would have had something going on! But not for long, sorry if this seems out of the blue. Let me know what you think! Does anyone like this ship? 🤔


	11. Friday 24th September 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is conflicted about his date and the possible consequences of letting someone in, he remembers past encounters and fails to resolve his feelings.

Breakfast was the normal affair, a variety of options spread over the house tables, some staff at the top of the hall at the staff table. Tom was eating toast and nodding along to his friend’s idle chatter as they waited for the owl post to arrive, of which Tom was expecting his copy of the Daily Prophet.

“-And so I said to Prewett, “‘I don’t think even  _ Engorgio  _ will help you there,” he nearly tripped over himself as he ran back to Gryffindor tower! No doubt Susan was very unimpressed.” Avery exclaimed, prompting a round of laughter entirely too inappropriate for the early hour of the day. Tom let a ghost of a smile pass over his face at the rambunctious activity of his peers.

“That was brilliant, mate!” Evan Rosier chipped in, and he turned to Tom, “Say, do you have any salacious tales? The way that Emma from Ravenclaw looks at you, I’d say there definitely  _ has  _ to be a story there!” He slung his arm over Tom’s shoulders, and Tom rolled his eyes.

“She can look all she likes,” He started out frostily, dropping his toast crust back to his plate. Moments after, though, Tom gave into a smile,“ **_I_ ** am a gentleman who tells no tall tales.” 

The boys around him jeered and laughed together, letting the matter drop as the post arrived at last.

As usual, Tom’s only post was a copy of the daily prophet. He grimaced at the “Muggle News” section, knowing it would be a death toll report yet again, but folded the paper into his book bag to read at length later. He would let himself be present with his peers for now.

Evan sensed his gaze, and looked up from his post with a smile. They finished breakfast and Tom headed to his first class feeling a little lighter inside.

~

_ Let’s go to Hogsmeade early tomorrow, meet me at 8 in the entrance hall? ER _

The scrap of parchment had crawled onto his desk in the last 10 minutes of charms. Tom rolled his eyes, scribed a quick and elegant, “ _ Sounds like a breakfast date, I’ll be there. TMG”,  _ and sent the note scuttling across to Evan’s desk.

He suppressed a grin and made a note of the essay assignment - alternative uses for the drought charm - as the professor’s lecture started to wind down. In spite of his own worries, the thought of the weekend was making him feel infectiously giddy. 

He shook his head at his own feelings, packed away his notes and textbook, and watched Evan leave the classroom with a dozen thoughts whirling around.

~

Despite all rumours, he hadn’t actually been taken on a date before. It was odd. He had occasionally accompanied pureblood heiresses to tea shops, and kept them company in the odd broom cupboard when they returned from Hogsmeade. 

Only last year, he’d found himself entangled with twins from Hufflepuff - oh, he had definitely been drunk for that one, as they were fraternal twins, (he’d learned a lot about his own sexuality that night).

He didn’t do the dating thing. He would one day make a good marriage to restore the Gaunt name, and vaults, but still didn’t much want to get attached.

So, why then, had he said yes to Rosier?

Tom sat with his legs crossed, the curtains of his four-poster bed pulled shut. He was trying to write in his notebook as these thoughts bothered him. He should not have given into Rosier, it had been bad enough when-

No.

Drinking was the cause of so many of his problems. When Abraxas had graduated, the local bars had probably mourned the loss of business. It was still incredible to Tom that the older boy had managed to buy that much alcohol while underage, a testament to his spoiled pockets and confident irresistible charm.

There were rumours that he was to be married to some ministry chit in the spring.

Tom sighed explosively, and gave up trying to write. He checked the time: nearly midnight. He knew he should at least try to sleep, with the early start for his  _ breakfast date  _ in the morning.

He stared at the closed notebook on his lap, the phrase odd in his mind. He put the book away a moment later and crept out of his bed, clad in pyjamas. He snuck out of the dorm room and with a quick disillusionment charm was out of the common room and striding through the dark corridors of the castle.

Absently, he twirled the wand in his hands as he walked, climbing staircase after staircase. He ascended from the dungeons, and came back to himself without interruption as he emerged onto the top floor of the astronomy tower. A nonverbal  _ Homenum Revelio  _ swept the floor, and he relaxed as it confirmed he was the only person up there.

He walked to the railing and stared out at the black lake. He inhaled the night air, the cleansing icy quality quieted his rampant mind. The moon was bright, though not full, clouds drifted around it lazily. 

He leaned on the railing and absorbed the tranquility, there was no better place, except maybe the room of requirement, to relax. A sort of premonition and dread told him that the day ahead would not be the giddy affair he had imagined earlier in the day, he wondered what had convinced him of that in the first place.

Rosier would be disappointed. Tom frowned at the stars, he could give his friend this one date, but he wasn’t sure how much more of himself he could give. 

Only time would tell.

~

_ Saturday 25th September 1943 _

“Darling, you look ravishing, but I am curious - did you sleep at all last night?” Evan greeted him, they set off from the hall to carriages at once. Tom had chosen to wear a warm robe over black trousers and a green buttoned shirt. He had managed to sleep a few hours eventually, having slipped back into the dorm room around 2AM.

“You’re full of it, Rosier, but you have reasonable taste in the company you keep.” Tom responded haughtily, though the grin the other sent him ruined the effect.

“Reasonable taste, indeed.” Rosier’s gaze lingered a little too long, and Tom lengthened his stride to evade further discussion of the young man’s  _ tastes.  _ He had participated in enough late night dorm discussions to want to go down that avenue of conversation.

They climbed into a carriage, the first to leave Hogwarts’ gates for Hogsmeade, they had managed to beat even the caretaker to the gate. 

“So, where are we going this morning? Three Broomsticks for breakfast?” Tom asked, relaxing a little into small talk.

“All will be revealed in time, but I have plans that go a little beyond that greasy spoon.” Evan teased, “We’ll actually be taking a portkey to Diagon Alley.” 

Tom was surprised by this, but kept further comment to himself. Evan was easy to sit with in the quiet, the other boy took his hand after a moment, and traced his fingers with his own. It wasn’t unpleasant. He watched the movement of Evan’s fingers, soothed by the motion, his dark eyes followed their hands as Evan raised their entwined hands and pressed a kiss to Tom’s knuckles.

Tom extracted his hand from Evan’s hold, and gave the boy a measured look, taking in the flicker of tenderness and desire. He grabbed Evan’s jaw and pulled him forward to meet his lips in a bruising kiss. Evan moaned and melted in his hold, his hands grabbed onto Tom’s robe as if to ground himself to the Earth. 

Before the carriage stopped, Tom pushed the other boy back into his own seat and straightened himself out. He was the first to step out into the crisp September air, followed a minute later by Evan who had taken a moment to compose himself.

“Well, that was unexpected.” Evan commented, but linked his arm with Tom as they walked toward the post office for their portkey.

_ For you and me both. _ Tom mused silently, thinking back to his dilemma the night before. Would he allow Evan Rosier to date him? Or would he discard him after today like so many others who had shown interest in him before?

“Return portkey to Diagon Alley, reservation name Rosier.” Evan told the clerk who nodded and went into a back room to fetch the portkey.

“It’ll go off in 30 seconds, and to return you need to tap it twice with your wand and say Marvin - that’s my name. You need to return before 9pm or the charm will automatically deactivate. Have a good day, Sirs.”

Evan nodded, and took the portkey, which was a charmed bottlecap. Tom touched it with the tip of his finger and Marvin the clerk counted them down.

“3… 2… 1…”

The students disappeared in a whirl of colour.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hope you enjoyed this chapter! I'm finding this date part difficult to write, because like you guys I'm impatient to move the plot along and get to the eventual HPLV haha. I promise that it is a relevant plot point though! This is going somewhere.


	12. Unknown 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Diagon Alley is attacked during Tom and Evan's date, here's what happened after.

Consciousness came to him slowly. Fuzzy, why was everything so fuzzy?

Uncomprehending, he opened his eyes a sliver, watched someone running past him. Someone had dialled down the volume of the world, who was screaming?

A flash of heat and flame in his mind’s eye.

Something was tugging on his arm, he looked wildly around, someone was saying something to him and pulling him from his seated position out of the…. shop? They dragged him into the alley, where more chaos reigned. A uniformed front of people walked forwards as one, spells poured from their outstretched wands, the sight struck fear in Tom, though he barely knew who they were, why they were there - hell, why was he there?

Tom and the stranger ran lopsidedly away from the group casting spells, ash and blood covered them both. They took shelter in a shop next to the Leaky Cauldron which was not yet damaged. Tom still felt confused, he stood uncertain while the stranger rushed to the fireplace and started looking around it for something.

“Wh- What-” Tom felt himself say, he knew he was shaking. The volume around him was getting loud again.

“-Don’t have time for you to freak out! They’re coming, help me find some fucking floo powder!” The other screamed at him. Tom stepped forwards once. Swayed on the spot.

He thought he might vomit, but the feeling passed. He took more halting steps forward until he was next to the cashier’s desk. Tom grit his teeth and finally felt for his wand, which, mercifully, was still on his person and not snapped.

It took a great deal of focus, but he cast a summoning charm and a box started rattling in a locked drawer. The other person didn’t seem to have a wand on them but easily found the key and retrieved the box.

The group spreading terror was horrifyingly close to their position now, but the stranger grabbed Tom by the arm and flung the floo powder in the fireplace. They ran in as the stranger called out, “The Three Broomsticks, Hogsmeade!”

~

Tom had been sick when they emerged from the connected fireplace. More people had been panicking around him when they came through and the stranger started telling people what was happening in Diagon Alley.

Teachers were summoned from Hogwarts to safely escort students back to the castle, someone had brought Tom a glass of water at some point, but he hadn’t said a word to anyone, still unsure of what had really happened. The last thing he remembered thinking about was… breakfast? The whole day seemed out of focus.

It wasn’t until Albus Dumbledore stepped into the Three Broomsticks to retrieve any stragglers that hadn’t returned to the castle yet that he perked up a little bit. He knew Albus, the professor who had answers to the most esoteric of questions.

The professor’s face had been grim when he spoke to the bartender, and he had patted Tom on the shoulder gently when he got to him, and steered him out of the pub. Tom wanted to ask what had happened, but the words couldn’t find their way out of him. His lungs felt full still of the ash he’d inhaled at the scene of devastation, but he limped his way to the thestral-drawn carriage with a handful of other students and the professor. None of them said anything that Tom later could recall.

He was cleaned up and checked over when he got to Hogwarts, the healer explained that he had hit his head pretty hard and that things would no doubt be clearer after a potion and a night of peaceful rest. The healer had also cast some sort of charm on him that made breathing a bit easier, he hadn’t been sick again, but didn’t feel like eating either. 

Sleep came, but it was not restful.

~

_Evan stroking his fingers gently, smiling in that way he did. Kissing Evan._

_…_

_Waffles with fresh fruit, coffee with cream. Laughing at yet another bawdy joke._

_…_

_Malfoy’s eyes connected with his across the crowded room, it had been so long since he’d last seen his friend, he thought that his chest might burst. Abraxas left first with no words spoken, and Tom did not follow him._

_…_

_Evan squeezing his hand tightly as they discussed the upcoming quidditch season and latest picks for the Slytherin team. So warm, his hand, could he get used to this?_

_…_

_Abraxas’ face again, just a flash in the crowd. He let go of Evan’s hand. They ducked into Knockturn Alley, Tom wanted to see if he could find a book on curses. He did not explain why._

_…_

_Evan bought him a scarf, it was blue - to match his eyes, the boy insisted. Soon they would go to lunch, but Tom wanted to go to Scribbilus’ first for more parchment and ink. They had stepped into the shop, a siren sounded, but it seemed far away._

_The siren sent a thrill of dread through Tom, automatically he looked up. His eyes scanned the skies, he spotted what he feared to see - planes in the sky._

_He should have feared Grindelwald’s men more, they appeared only seconds later. The muggles above could not find Diagon Alley, but the men could._

_…_

_Evan’s scared face, he fumbled in his pocket for the portkey, apologising over and over for bringing Tom to Diagon Alley as they took shelter with other customers. Grim determination overtook Tom as he tried to summon enough ill will to cast the most unforgivable of curses if necessary to get back to safety._

_He stepped around the counter as one of the uniformed soldiers stopped in the doorway. The curse words were on his tongue, a flash of blond hair through the window distracted him. The blasting curse brought the ceiling down, and fire followed. Blackness overtook him._

_~_

Tom awoke screaming as the memories asserted themselves. 

“Tom! It’s okay, it’s okay.” 

He peered through the dark of the hospital wing, sweaty and heart pounding again, and blinked a few times as he recognised Evan in the bed across from his. The boy got up and crept over to his bedside carefully.

“Evan? How did you get out of there? Are you okay?” Tom whispered carefully, surprised that the nurse had not come running already.

“I’m okay, healed up already but they wouldn’t let me go until I stayed a night here. Don’t you remember? We floo-ed out.” Evan explained hurriedly, sitting on the chair next to Tom’s bed. Tom sat up, stunned for a moment.

“Wait, that was you that dragged me out of there?” Tom asked.

“Yeah, I mean you were out of it big time, I don’t know how you kept your wand, but I lost mine. I’ll definitely get a better wand holster as soon as I either recover my wand or get a new one…” Evan grumbled.

“Why didn’t you just activate the portkey and get out?” Tom demanded to know, angry now.

“By the time I got it out of my pocket, you were going out there to confront them like an idiot, I wasn’t going to leave you behind! And then he must have cast bombarda or something, the _ceiling_ fell on you and there was quite a bit of carnage… By the time I got to you, both the portkey and my wand were gone, and they were setting shops on fire, all I wanted to do was get you out of there.” Evan explained fretfully, “We went to the shop furthest away, and used the floo to get out, the patrons and shopkeepers must have left before we got there because it was deserted.”

This was a lot of information for Tom to take in. He’d thought his training had been going well, but the minute they were in a battle zone, he’d failed himself, he’d failed Evan. They were lucky to be alive at all. If only he hadn’t been distracted…

“Why were Grindelwald’s men even in Diagon Alley?” He eventually said.

“That is the question everyone is asking, Tom.” Came another voice.

Evan and Tom jumped and turned to the wizard who had crept up on them. Dumbledore.

“Hello, professor.” Evan greeted him feebly. Tom said nothing.

“I understand that you both had a very stressful experience and should be sleeping.” He stated, conjuring up another chair for himself to sit on, “Therefore, I am not surprised to find you both awake discussing it.”

Tom rolled his eyes and sat back against his pillow, typical Dumbledore. 

“Sorry professor,” Evan apologised, still looking a little spooked at the man’s sudden appearance, “I’ll just… go…”

Evan smiled sheepishly and left Tom’s side to get back into his own bed quickly.

“Traitor.” Tom mumbled without any real feeling, scowling at the other’s retreating form.

“Now, Tom, he did get you out of there quite safely.” Dumbledore reprimanded him.

“That’s another thing!” Tom exclaimed in a sudden outburst, “After the explosion, you say, and he says, that he got me out of there, but I didn’t recognise him at all at the time. How can that be? I was sure it was a random wizard, I thought he was-” Tom stopped short of saying the word ‘dead’, unable to verbalise the thought.

“The mind is a curious thing. In grief, and hardship, as it is when we are happy and healthy too. I believe that your head injury contributed to the confusion, and your apparent belief that he was… gone,” Dumbledore stated delicately, “May have altered your perception of events as they happened. I know that when I picked you up, you only seemed to recognise myself.”

Tom was disturbed by this speculation, and the realisation that they had drifted from his original question.

“So, why do you think they were in Diagon? I thought he was only focused on Europe?” Tom asked.

Albus’ face took on a pained look, “I don’t think anyone can truly know the motives behind Grindelwald’s attacks. How truly do we know anyone, after all?” 

_Cryptically unhelpful_. 

“I am glad that you seem to be healing, Tom, I really should let you get back to sleep. We can catch up over tea soon, I hope?” Albus stood, vanishing the conjured chair.

“No.” Tom insisted lowly, “I don’t think I am free anytime soon for _tea_ , sorry Professor.”

Albus was silent for a long moment, though he looked as though he wanted to speak.

“Goodnight, Tom.” He finally said, then he left.

~


	13. Afterwards 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Evan confronts Tom & Tom's thoughts and actions after that.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in one day! Lucky you guys, I'm on a roll. See if I can magic up another one tomorrow, but if not, expect the next update next weekend! Until then, dear readers~

It took only a few days of Tom avoiding Evan Rosier for the boy to confront him. They had both seen the article in the daily prophet about the attack, the whole thing had been discussed and analysed to the death in the Slytherin common room - what they hadn’t discussed, was their burgeoning relationship.

“Tom, do you have a sec?” Evan’s hand caught the edge of Tom’s sleeve as class ended. Usually, he was pretty quick to run off to the library or otherwise to get away from the rest of the student populace. For someone so absent from the social scene, it was surprising that Tom remained so popular with the student body.

“If you’re intent on speaking with me, you can follow me to somewhere more private.” Tom told him frostily, pulling away from Evan’s grasp.

With quick strides, ignoring Evan as much as he could and trying not to think of the pending conversation, Tom led his friend to the room of requirement. He did not bother explaining how the room worked, and nor did he comment when the room took the rough shape of Dumbledore’s private rooms, only in silver and green colours. 

Tom, instead, dumped his bag and took the armchair closest to the fireplace, figuring he might as well be comfortable for the conversation ahead.

“Well? Sit.” He commanded.

Evan hesitated, but obeyed without complaint, sitting on the edge of the other chair. He fidgeted with the strap of his messenger bag, and eventually placed that on the floor too. 

“So… How are you, Tom?” Evan asked eventually, eyes soft as they flitted over his face.

“I’ve been busy studying for our NEWTs, and extracurricular studies for Defence in particular.” Tom told him.

“I know that, I mean, _how are you_ , after last weekend…” 

“Perfectly fine, is that all you wanted to ask?” Tom brushed him off easily.

“Well, I’m not fine. We haven’t even talked about our date, I know it ended badly, but I was having a pretty good time until-”

“Do we have to talk about that?” Agitated, Tom crossed one leg over the other one and slumped back in the armchair. His wand was in his hand, he lit the fireplace and then idly twirled the piece of wood between his fingers.

Evan winced at the show of nonverbal magic.

“Please, didn’t we have a good morning at least?” He all but begged. Tom uncrossed his legs slowly, and after a moment’s hesitation, beckoned Evan to him.

Evan moved to him as if pulled by a summoning charm, and stood at Tom’s side, Tom pulled him by the arm and Evan fell onto his lap. Tom wrapped an arm around Evan’s waist and pressed his lips to the boy’s ear.

“Of course I did, are you after some appreciation? We did miss ending our date on a good note after all.” He murmured, biting gently at Evan’s earlobe.

Evan blushed, his neck and face an attractive pink.

“Be serious, Tom.” He tried to insist, but Tom kissed his neck and Evan struggled to remember what he was being serious about.

Tom held him closer still, and used his other hand to turn Evan’s face, meeting his lips. Later, he couldn’t remember who had been moaning, all he could feel was Tom’s unyielding grip - all he could smell was Tom’s cologne, all he could taste was Tom. Time itself could have stopped, he wouldn’t know it, he wouldn’t mind it.

When Tom released him from the kiss at last, it was only to start unbuttoning his shirt, a smooth hand tantalizingly moved over Evan’s chest. Goosebumps.

“Wait, Tom,” It was so hard to speak when those lips were on his neck again, “Does this mean you’ll let me try again, take you out again?”

The hand withdrew, Tom sat back to look him in the eye.

“I don’t date. I told you before this started, I can’t give you more than this Evan.” The words were soft, but firm. Devastating temptation, to give in to Tom here and now, but knowing that he wouldn’t have another chance, another day to hold his hand and treat the other boy as he deserved.

He grasped Tom’s hand, pressed a devoted kiss to his each knuckle while pondering - would it be better to know, or not know how Tom felt in a moment of pure bliss? Evan felt pained in his choice, as he moved to claim Tom’s lips, but he couldn’t deny himself this selfish indulgence.

~

Tom knew, later, that Evan had hoped against all odds that he would change his mind after they had fucked in the room of requirement that day, but he kept to his word. He treated him as no more than a friend afterwards, even though he caught those eyes watching him, devouring him in memory and longing.

Evan didn’t understand. Tom couldn’t date. Much like his old friend, Abraxas, had taught him, one day he would have to take a wife for the purposes of the Gaunt line. He would need an heir to succeed him. He couldn’t get attached. More recently, his list of reasons to not get attached had grown. People could die.

Tom knew people could die, he knew it well. He now also knew that if he could keep his nerve long enough, he would be able to avoid death for a long time to come. Maybe he could avoid death forever? But Evan would not. So he denied him any further attention as a romantic prospect, and delved back into his studies of the Dark Arts, without Dumbledore whispering in his ear, he felt like he was focusing on his intended path for the first time.

He had worried for a while about where to practice, but recalled that, although Dumbledore and the house-elves knew about the Chamber of Secrets (as he had arranged for the basilisk to be fed frequently, _years_ ago), they couldn’t necessarily detect what was cast down there.

Slytherin had warded it to the teeth, after all, it wasn’t just parseltongue protecting it. 

Tom went to the chamber after his prefect patrol one evening, and a hissed conversation revealed that there was indeed a particular room that Slytherin had hidden, Tom tested by summoning a rat and casting a quick dark curse to stop it’s heart.

He waited, he went back to his dorm. He continued to wait a few more days to see if there were any queries or reports of dark magic around. No such thing happened. He had to conclude that it had not been detected, since the chamber was so far below the school. Tom was reminded again that his ancestor had been one of the most powerful wizards of his time.

Happily, he didn’t need to summon pests to practice on all the time down there either, as he used the room of requirement to learn the charm to conjure a practice dummy. He used that to practice most of the time. The basilisk left him to it, as it preferred to sleep when it was not roaming the tunnels (no longer connected to the plumbing of the school above, though there was one tunnel that led to the forest, warded to only let the basilisk out with the heir’s permission).

Tom considered trying out some rituals he had read about, some granted enhanced vision, or protection against physical attacks, but decided that the risk if it went wrong was too great while he was alone in a chamber under the school. He would wait until he had left school.

He did read up on the theories behind them, and intensified his efforts into both Ancient Runes and Arithmancy to support his learning. With time, he’d be designing his own rituals, he was sure of it. 

Time passed, and before anyone knew it, the first snow hit Hogwarts, a week before the end of term, Christmas break was nearly upon them.

Tom had hardly spoken to Albus Dumbledore outside of class since that fateful day in September, though he sometimes felt the professor’s gaze on him at mealtimes. Occasionally, Tom admitted to himself that the ability to discuss unusual magic with a more experienced mind than his own was something that he missed, but he didn’t think he missed the man himself.

He cultivated his way into favour with his head of house once more, apparently came out of his self-imposed shell by attending slug club parties, and drew a larger gathering of talented individuals around himself. He studied for his NEWTs, he had a large social circle, he didn’t need his old mentor’s guidance anymore.

So why did it grate on his nerves when Christmas had arrived, and still, the man had not even tried to invite him for tea again?

Tom was in his dorm, alone, since everyone had boarded the train earlier in the day. He tapped his quill against the page of his essay, getting the holiday assignments out of the way early.

He would be of age at the end of the month, barely two weeks away. He didn’t need a mentor. He didn’t need a paramour. He didn’t need anyone. He had let go of that, he only needed that which would make him stronger.

He put the essay down and went to his trunk. He pulled out a bottle of firewhisky he had been gifted by a 7th year redhead in Hufflepuff only last week after a slug club meeting. He drank straight from the bottle.

He **didn’t** need anyone.

~


	14. Friday 24th December 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore’s secret is out… or is it? Tom and Dumbledore finally talk to each other.

Tom was in the library, staring out of the window at the frozen black lake, when professor Dumbledore finally caught up with him. The older man sat opposite Tom, and also looked out of the window.

“Some people dislike the winter season, but others find beauty, even in the darkest months.” Albus commented idly, “I am sorry that I have not found the time to speak with you before this, my boy.”

“I’m not your boy.” Tom protested, without any real heat in the words, “I admit, I have also not found the time to speak with you. If only because I had no real words to say.”

Albus frowned at this, “All the same, I wish I had taken the time to speak with you further after the attack.”

Tom stood, and walked a few steps from the table, breathing deeply. Then he turned back to Dumbledore.

“I have no wish to discuss it unless you have answers as to **why** they were in England in the first place, is Grindelwald helping Hitler now? Is he so confident in his takeover of Europe that he is extending his reach this far already?” The harsh words were heralded by the rattling of the window. Albus looked pained at the words.

“I wish I had the answers you seek, Tom.” He told him quietly, “Come to my office, let us speak in peace.”

Tom waved his wand over his books and parchment on the desk, it packed itself into his bag, which he collected from his chair.

“There can be no peace until this war is finished.” Tom prophesied, though he did not storm away, “One cup of tea, for old times’ sake.”

Albus smiled, and led the way to his office.

~

“How can it be that this is the first I have heard of this? We have known each other for many years now.” Tom asked, incredulous. Sat in his usual chair in Albus’ living quarters, his tea cup was half empty.

“It is not a tale I share lightly, Tom, but I thought it might help you understand.” Albus explained, sitting back in his own chair.

“I just can’t believe it… that you and Grindelwald were friends back then. Why aren’t you at his side now? What happened that the mighty Dumbledore and Grindelwald did not take the world by storm, then?” Tom questioned, much to Albus’ dismay.

“You know of my brother, Aberforth, who runs the Hog’s Head pub, but what you likely don’t know is that I had a sister, too. Ariana,” Albus revealed, his voice soft as he spoke her name, “I am ashamed to admit that I never cared for her as much as I should have. Her magic was not controlled in the way you or I can use it, one day during an argument between Gellert , myself and Aberforth, she got in the way of a spell, and passed away. We still don’t know who cast it, but that was the end of my friendship with him.”

“But then, if you knew him back then, surely you know his strengths and limitations, surely you must involve yourself in this war and stop him! At least inform the aurors of what you know for when he comes here seeking to overthrow the ministry.” Tom asserted, with the arrogance of youth.

“I cannot.” Albus insisted.

“Why?” Tom’s eyes grew wide, “Already, thirty died in the attack on Diagon Alley. How long will you wait to intervene? Of the magic you have seen and taught me alone, I’ve no doubt you could help save lives in this conflict. You could go abroad and stop the war from coming here.”

“You wouldn’t understand, Tom…” Albus sighed deeply, “I was young, like you are now, only perhaps more foolish. Perhaps less understanding of who he would become. Blinded, apparently, by how powerful I felt when we planned ways to improve society _for the greater good.”_

Albus scoffed at the memory, and did not continue to explain. Tom was unsure of what to say, he felt disillusioned, all of a sudden - though it had been only a couple of months ago when he had been involved in the attack, and had recognised only Dumbledore as the one among many wizards as the one who could make things better.

It seemed inconceivable that he was refusing to get involved in this, when he had urged Tom on many occasions to promote unity among his peers, and to always choose the right thing to do. Not that Tom had always followed that advice, but still…

“I don’t understand.” Tom spoke up eventually, “I don’t understand at all, and I don’t think I really know you.”

He stood, “Whatever it is that you were trying to accomplish today by telling me this, all I can think now is that you are a coward, you are no Gryffindor.”

“Thomas!” Albus’ face twisted in anger, one of the only times he had ever shown the emotion freely, “How dare-”

“No! How dare you sit there and feel sorry for yourself while people out there **_die_ **. Don’t invite me for tea again. If you wish to only ever be a teacher, when you could be so much more, then do not pretend to be more to me, ever again.” Tom picked up his bag, feeling worse for knowing what he did.

Albus watched Tom walk out, and he felt all of his 62 years of age in his bones. Was it too late to act? Should he have not told Tom of his past? It was a heavy burden of knowledge to keep to himself, maybe he was wrong to share it with the boy he had mentored for five years.

He stood silently and followed Tom, regret twisted his features as a stunning charm caused Tom to crumple where he stood. He cried as he obliviated his student, taking the burden back onto his own shoulders. Albus regretted that he knew Tom was right, he felt the weight of so many deaths upon his shoulders that he could have tried to prevent. Even if he died opposing Grindelwald, perhaps he would not feel this wretched way now.

It was fortunate that so few people were in the castle over the Christmas break, he returned Tom to the library without being seen, and arranged him by the window once more. Let him think he had fallen asleep there. He patted Tom’s shoulder once, and left, his own turmoil more agitated than ever.

~

Tom awoke much later, his head pounding. He shivered, the winter chill had invaded the library, there were no fireplaces near the books to heat the room. He gathered his things in a daze and wandered out into the halls.

A quick charm showed that it was nearly dinner time already, Tom tried to think back to what he had been doing in the library. His bag contained his Ancient Runes assignment that he’d been rewriting after reading about a different interpretation of particular clusters when inscribed in a different direction…

That was all he could remember, that, and watching the black lake. It was frozen over from the weather, he’d been wondering how the wildlife dealt with the freezing temperatures. He must have fallen asleep while thinking about that. How bizarre.

Tom shook off the weird feeling that came with an unexpected nap and losing time in the day, he dropped off his bag and had a shower back in the dorms, before heading to dinner.

There were only a handful of students at Hogwarts over the break. Tom made a mental tally when he entered the Great hall: a 2nd year Gryffindor, two 4th year Hufflepuffs, two 4th year Slytherins, a 5th year Ravenclaw, the head girl (7th year Ravenclaw), himself, and, of course, Evan Rosier.

Since there was only one table during break, he sat as far from Evan as he could by sitting across from the head girl. She smiled at him, and shortly after Tom sat down, the teachers joined their table and food popped up from the kitchens onto the table. Tom helped himself to some chicken pie and potatoes, and made no effort towards conversation with the others at the table.

When the main course was whisked away and replaced by dessert though, his quiet was broken by his least favourite professor moving to sit next to him.

“Good evening, Tom.” Albus greeted him warmly.

“Good evening, professor Dumbledore. Are you enjoying the winter season?” Tom asked, serving himself a slice of cherry pie.

“It is certainly chilly outside! I suspect there will be a snowball fight between the younger few students before the holiday is done. How have you been?” Albus queried more seriously.

“My NEWT studies are going well, I am on track for Outstandings in most subjects, as expected.” Tom informed him tiredly.

“Very well done, my boy. Beyond that, things are well though?” Albus smiled, pouring some pumpkin juice into a goblet.

“Perfectly fine, sir.” Tom told him through gritted teeth, abandoning his dessert, though he had only taken one bite. He was no longer hungry. His eyes met those of the head girl’s again as he looked for an excuse to leave, he smiled slowly at her.

“Amanda, would you care to join me for an evening stroll, I believe we planned to revise the Prefect rota together?” He offered smoothly, she showed no visible surprise at this, and nodded serenely.

“Are you ready now, Tom?” She asked, her voice was a pitch too high to be considered sweet and dainty, she fluttered her eyelashes a little, and Tom put on an enamoured look for her benefit. They both stood, and Tom walked around the table to take her arm in his.

“Good evening, professor. Merry Christmas to you.” Tom concluded, nodding in Dumbledore’s direction. 

Albus watched them leave, his heart heavy with regret. Evan's eyes followed Amanda's petite form as she brushed against Tom, his fists clenched under the table. 

~


	15. Saturday 25th December 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Christmas at Hogwarts 1943. Tom isn't feeling very festive.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Warning: Minor character death, stalker behaviour, heavy drinking, smoking.

Christmas morning came. Tom heard Evan get up, and the ripping of paper as he opened whatever gifts he had received - Less exuberant in noise than usual, perhaps he was trying to avoid waking Tom? That was fine. Tom stayed quiet and willed the other boy to leave as he stared at the canopy of his bed. He was feeling fuzzy and tired in a way he hadn’t felt for a while.

Last night he had gone to the prefect’s bathroom with Amanda, it was an open secret that prefects would hide their stash of contraband in there away from the rest of the student population. They drank, and flirted, and eventually filled the pool-sized tub with champagne scented bubbles and fucked there in the water.

Afterwards, he had been surprised when she offered him a cigarette, but he had accepted, and they smoked and drank the rest of the night away together. She had stayed at Hogwarts because her father was overseas working with the french government to safeguard borders or something. Her mother was dead. Tom confessed that he had nowhere else but Hogwarts that he considered home. The orphanage certainly didn’t count as one. They had agreed that despite all appearances, they were both fuck ups behind the scenes. Tom didn’t remember much beyond that.

His throat was dry, and his head hurt. When Tom sat up after he finally heard the other boy leave, he went to the bathroom and puked a little. He avoided looking in the mirror, just drank from the cold water tap and splashed his face a few times, took care of the growing need to pee, and stumbled back to his bed. 

Discontent, he punched his pillow a few times and wondered if the grogginess would fade.

It didn’t. With a groan, he pulled his blanket around himself and buried his head under his pillow, willing himself back to sleep. Eventually, the quiet of the room did give way to sleep.

When he awoke again, the room was still empty. Good. He sat up and conjured a glass, filling it with water via the aguamenti charm. He sipped slowly and observed the empty dorm room. Evan had left wrapping paper on his bed, though whatever gitfs he’d received he had either put in his trunk or taken with him when he left the dorm.

At the end of his own bed were several parcels, Tom grimaced in distaste at the sight of them. He had managed to send some perfunctory gifts to his peers - books with a practical purpose for his friends, they could use them in their duelling and defense study sessions. He’d even sent some crystallised pineapple to Slughorn, and a box of Earl Grey tea leaves to Dumbledore.

He intended to fully ignore whatever was in the parcels, but spotted one with a pink tag with his name on it, a long rectangular box. He narrowed his eyes at it and lazily summoned it to his lap. Further inspection of the tag revealed it was from Amanda, he was surprised that she’d had the time, or the will, to put something together after their heavy drinking the night before. He hadn’t even thought that they were on gift giving terms already.

He opened the box, it was muggle whiskey and a box of cigarettes with a lightly perfumed note, _Astronomy Tower? A xx_

Tom opened the bottle and sniffed it, the smell made his eyes water. Perfect. He took a swig and felt his throat burn, and then the burn settled in his chest. The warm feeling relaxed him, he put the cap back on the bottle and got out of bed. 

Instead of his uniform, which he would normally insist on wearing, Tom donned a green button up shirt, grey slacks, and a plain black robe. He didn’t bother with his hair, but hid the gift from Amanda in his robe pocket, disillusioned himself and snuck out of the dorm.

He passed the common room quietly, wary of running into anyone else, because he just didn’t feel up to the social interaction. He walked the familiar route upwards. Other than the Chamber of Secrets, the dungeons seemed to be the lowest part of the school, whereas the Astronomy Tower was one of the highest, the walk up so many staircases as he ascended cleared his head a bit. That wouldn’t do, he wanted to stop thinking.

Gryffindors always preached that talking about things made them better, but he felt worse for having broached a number of topics with the head girl the night before. Everything felt raw still.

She was already there when he arrived, and gave him a small smile.

“You came.” 

“Obviously.” He retorted. She was leaning on the rail and looking out at the black lake as he had done on many occasions.

“Thanks, by the way, for this.” He pulled out the bottle from his robe pocket demonstratively. She conjured up two glasses and he poured the whiskey into both. They clinked glasses and downed them quickly, she spluttered and coughed, Tom laughed at her.

“Fuck, I’m not sure it’s drinkable like that.” She cursed. Tom resisted laughing this time and poured her another measure.

“Have another, I’m sure the taste will pass. Cheers.” They clinked glasses but drank the second glass more slowly. 

“Come sit with me,” She invited, gesturing to a blanket Tom hadn’t noticed before. They sat with their backs against the wall and continued drinking.

“Merry Christmas by the way,” Tom piped up eventually, “What do you think everyone else is doing today?”

Amanda swirled the liquor in her glass, watching it rather than looking at him.

“Fuck knows. Merlin, I can’t wait to leave here, you know - I think I’ll go to America when I graduate. I’m sure father would be pleased, since he’s so big on foreign affairs.” She commented bitterly. Tom didn’t bother to ask further questions about her family.

“I want to travel, you know. I have wanted to for a while now. Sluggie thinks I’m off to the ministry to be junior undersecretary though straight from graduation, from the way he tells it.” Tom chuckled, finishing his glass again.

“It’s a shame though,” He told her carefully, pouring out his third glass already, “The bloody war, what’s the fucking point of it all?” He sat back, legs crossed as he cradled his glass. Amanda leant her head on his shoulder, sipping her glass occasionally.

“Indeed,” She agreed solemnly, “What’s the fucking point of anything?”

“Want a smoke?” Tom offered after a moment of silence.

“Oh, you brought them? Good boy.” She giggled, grabbing her wand so she could light them up.

Soon they both were blowing streams of smoke into the cold air, the acrid flavour lingered in their mouths, but they felt a little more peaceful inside - To Tom it felt like the smoke carried something out of him, something painful and dark.

“So if the war comes here, you don’t want to play soldier then?” Amanda slurred, having helped herself to more alcohol, “Every other boy in this stupid school thinks they can take Grindels- GRind- Grin- Him, with one arm behind their back, you know. Can’t tell if you’re smarter than them, or just scared.”

Tom frowned as Amanda sniggered at her own statement.

“Do you fear death, Amanda?” He asked softly, putting his drink down to look at her intently. He reached out and cupped her face in one hand, she moved closer eagerly, eyes wide.

“Death just means that it stops, Tom, everything stops.” She whispered, and threw her glass aside to straddle him. Her lips met his and he let her kiss him. 

“Do you want me to stop, Tom?” She moaned into his ear, and pressed hard kisses along his neck. He felt her teeth scrape a little when he didn’t reply. His hands rested on her thighs, rubbing small circles over her stockings.

In his mind, Tom made connections between her question and their discussion that he wouldn’t have done, sober. She had given him the definition of death, she asked if he wanted her to stop. Did he want her to stop, indefinitely? Why was it so unclear? Why did he have the sudden desire to introduce her to the basilisk to see if she would _stop,_ then?

Amanda was unbuttoning his shirt, kissing his chest as she went. Vaguely, Tom registered a distant clattering sound, but instead fixed his eyes at last onto the young woman’s face. She had a fiendish smile, she kissed his belt and waved her wand a little unsteadily. The belt disappeared, along with his trouser button. She tossed her wand aside and kissed his abdomen again, Tom moved his hands into her hair, when they were interrupted.

“ _Stupefy.”_ Evan’s voice, cold and clear and bitter. Amanda went still and limp on Tom’s lap. Fucking hell, why was Evan there?

“Rosier?” He peered up at the other.

“Tom. Were you going to let that harlot continue slobbering over you all day?” He bit out, waving his wand again and levitating the head girl off of Tom enough that Evan could sit next to him.

“Why does it matter? You jealous?” Tom snorted, grabbing his previously abandoned glass and drinking what was left in it. He didn’t have to look at Evan to know that the boy was clenching his jaw.

“Look, I’ve watched you drink every day of the winter break, you’re going down a disappointing path. You’re so much more than the likes of _her._ ” Evan indicated the passed out Amanda. “I’ve seen other Slytherins do it, you get high on the buzz or whatever of being drunk, but really you’ll just be a sloppy mess, and you’re already making bad decisions sleeping with whoever asks - I mean really -”

Tom focused suddenly as if hit with a sobering charm, and his face took on a dark look.

“What gives you the right, all of a sudden, to lecture me on my choices, Rosier? Why bother watching me so intently, hm? I don’t recall you protesting so harshly when I took **you** to bed.” Tom recalled, vanishing his glass and the one Amanda had tossed aside before. He lit another cigarette just to blow the smoke at his friend.

“I care about you, Tom. You could be so great.” Evan admitted, quiet and red at the admission, “You’re already so strong, so popular, so clever. You’ve taught me and the guys so much already about defence, about Dark Arts…”

“Oh, so you’re worried you won’t have your teacher any more? Or you think I’ll protect you from big bad Dark Lords, is that it? Get a fucking clue Rosier, as if any of us would have a chance.” Tom scoffed, and made for the still half full whiskey bottle. Evan grasped his wrist.

“I mean it, Tom. Stop it.”

Tom sneered at him, “Fuck off, Evan.”

Evan groaned frustratedly, “I hate that you’re making me do this!” He wrestled the bottle from Tom’s grip and threw it over the railing.

Tom roared at him incoherently and stumbled to his feet, swinging at Evan, “That was a christmas present, you bastard!”

“Oh, like you care about Christmas suddenly? You haven’t touched the other presents anyone got you.” Evan mocked him coolly, dodging Tom’s swing and raising his wand carefully. 

“You dare raise your wand to me? I thought you said we were friends, Rosier? Or don’t you care about me anymore?” Tom snarled, loosely holding his wand, feeling much like a coiled spring.

“Until you just _talk_ to me, this is the only way I know how to help! For merlin’s sake,” Evan dodged a stinging hex from Tom, “ _Impedimenta!_ ”

His spell missed, Tom snapped out an _Incarcerous_ , Evan narrowly dodged that one and returned fire with the same spell. Evan’s spell just clipped Tom on the leg and it was enough to knock him down. He summoned Tom’s wand.

“I’m taking you back to the dorm damn it, you’re getting sober, and we’ll talk when you feel better.” Evan insisted, “ _Stupefy._ ” 

Tom went still. Evan sighed deeply and sat down against the wall, looking at his friend’s slackened face with affection. Conversely, he glanced at the still knocked out girl nearby with a scowl. He debated with himself for a moment, and went to her.

“ _Incarcerous, ennervate_.” Evan incanted, “Hello Amanda. How are you?” 

She looked up at him with confusion, “Rosier?”

“It’s a shame you went after Tom really, you could have slept with anyone like the whore you are, but you chose Tom… I suppose I understand, I like him too, very much.” Evan told her, kneeling to her level to look her in the eye. She was still trying to shake off the confusion, still slightly too drunk to realise the seriousness of the situation.

“It’s also a shame that you have so much alcohol in your system, that so many know you like to get drunk up here… So easy for an accident to happen, don’t you think?” He continued.

“That’s not funny, let me go, I’m tired…” She whined, starting to struggle in the ropes.

“Aw, okay, I’ll let you go, here I’ll help you up.” Evan smiled disarmingly. He vanished the ropes and helped her to her feet.

“You okay there?” He asked, reaching out to steady her.

“I think so…” She replied, looking at him uncertainly.

"Good." He smiled grimly, and pushed her hard. Amanda fell from the tower, her face a picture of shock.

Evan disillusioned himself and Tom, and gathered any evidence of Tom or himself being there. They were back in the Slytherin dorm before anyone noticed Amanda’s blood in the snow.

Evan laid Tom in his bed and stroked his hair away from his pale face. He watched him for a while, and then kissed his unresponsive lips, whispering afterwards, “You’ll be the best of us.”

~


	16. After Christmas Day 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is pissed, but then not. Evan is not pissed, but then is.

According to the ministry officials, and as far as Hogwarts’ school board were concerned, Amanda’s death was a tragic accident caused by an overwrought girl drinking too much from the stress of being both Head Girl and taking too many NEWT subjects. There was a brief mention of it on page 7 of the daily prophet, but otherwise, to all involved, it was better to move on than to dwell on it.

Of course, on Boxing Day, when Tom had awoken, Evan was nearby - Tom could hear him talking to someone at their dormitory door, and stumbled to his feet to see what was going before memories of the previous day could fully reassert themselves. His head hurt.

It was professor Slughorn, he visibly sighed with relief at seeing Tom up and about.

“Yes, it’s a terrible business, but I’m glad you are both well. Thank you Tom, by the way, for the pineapple! My favourite, you know! Well, I’ll leave you boys to your morning, meals will be served in the common room today while the Aurors are finishing their investigation.” Then the portly professor was gone.

Evan closed the door softly, and turned to Tom with a small smile, “Don’t worry, as far as anyone else is concerned, we spent the day in the dorm celebrating Christmas day together.”

Tom ignored Evan’s smile, instead stepping up to Evan, pressing him close to the wall, “What. Happened?” He enunciated clearly, jaw clenching.

He now remembered the feel of Amanda on his lap, her lazy kisses and drunken giggling, he remembered pondering death, and duelling Evan - He had been bested by his own friend because he had indulged too much in the drink which… had been thrown off of the tower. None of which really explained Slughorn, or Evan’s statement afterwards.

“I saved you,” Evan asserted, looking up at Tom, even as the other boy snarled and summoned his wand to him wandlessly. Tom pressed his wand into Evan’s neck, “Explain. All I remember is you attacking me.”

“It should have been clear… You have been influenced by a number of people in this castle who have been tearing you down and making you _less_. I’d hoped… When you finally allowed me to take you to Diagon Alley that day that I could somehow keep them from you, if you chose me to be yours - but that didn’t happen, and watching you deteriorate since then was painful, Tom!” He raised his voice heatedly, “The drinking, the sex - I could have looked past the sex - but you’ve been attending less duelling practice, hiding away with whatever skirt comes your way, I thought you wanted to get strong - wanted to be able to defend yourself and those around you when war finally comes to magical Britain-”

“Get to the point, Evan.” Tom insisted, disturbed by the rant… yet finding hints of clarity in the other’s words, he felt as though a haze that had been over him for months was lifting.

“Amanda was just the latest, but she had you smoking muggle cigarettes, seducing you into thinking you had weaknesses, that you should share those - she could have ruined you!” Evan ran his hands through his own hair out of stress, trying to make Tom understand, “All the work you’ve put in to restore the Gaunt name, I couldn’t see you like that. So I got rid of the drink, got rid of her - that’s why the aurors are here, collecting her body. I’ve been practicing the magic you told us about too, before all of this, wherever I can, and it feels good to grow strong. Strong, and good enough to protect you until you can protect yourself.” Evan was resolute in his words, trembling passionately and defenseless for Tom’s judgement.

“Well, fuck.” Tom lowered his wand, “You’re a prat.”

Evan looked relieved, even with his hair on end and eyes beseechingly wide.

“You’re lucky no one is looking too closely at us right now… Did you even consider that on Christmas Eve I was seen leaving with Amanda? I should have seen this sooner… Don’t misunderstand, you’re not off the hook, but...” Tom promised darkly, stepping back and twirling his wand in his hands thoughtfully, “Come on, we need to be seen in the common room if anyone comes around, grab some homework or something.”

“Didn’t you want to open your other Christmas gifts?” Evan suggested, “We could have a belated celebration…”

“A girl is dead, I don’t think the rest of the castle will be celebrating, idiot.” Tom rolled his eyes and headed to the bathroom to get ready for the day ahead. Were all of his friends psychopaths and he just hadn’t noticed? He wondered what else he had missed in his recent funk, he felt like he hadn’t had a real conversation with Avery or Lestrange in a long time… He would fix that when term resumed.

~

He wasn’t sure how he had gone through the last term in a haze and still passed his classes, Tom realised. Working on Ancient Runes by the fire with his idiot (friend?) nearby, Tom tapped the feather end of his quill against his chin, the translation hadn’t been difficult, but he reluctantly had to admit that he would need to go to the library to put his preferred level of detail into the essay part of the assignment. 

He sighed, Evan looked up. Tom twitched with the urge to curse the other boy, but instead put his quill down and cast a charm to dry the ink of his work so far. 

“Bored?” Evan queried.

“Obviously,” Tom snapped, “I wonder what the other students are up to.”

Other than himself and Idiot, there were two Slytherins at Hogwarts, though they were younger. The two had ventured out of their dorms for lunch an hour ago, and then gone back to their dorms.

“I’m sure professor Slughorn will be by soon to tell us when we can freely roam the castle again.” Evan tried to reassure him, “In the meantime, we could always borrow Avery’s chess set? Or play exploding snap?” 

Tom grimaced. He’d rather talk about Acromantula mating practices with Hagrid at that moment…

“No… how about you catch me up on your defense studies, clearly you’ve been practicing. On whom?” Tom ventured suddenly, moving from his armchair to the sofa next to Evan, wand in hand. “I’m _very_ interested to hear about that.”

Evan gulped, Tom leaned over him and gave him a look that demanded answers. When none were forthcoming, Tom ran his wand over Evan’s jawline, and arched an elegant eyebrow - nonverbal communication did usually work with him...

There was a squeak from the doorway.“S-sorry!” 

Tom stood quickly and turned to the 4th year, he struggled to remember her name. Nevertheless, he was quick to join her and took her elbow delicately in hand.

“It’s okay,” He gave her a disarming smile, “Why don’t you and your friend join us? I was just teasing Evan here about his crush.” Tom gave a high, false laugh that should have put them on edge, but the girl joined his laugh nervously.

“Maisie!” She called up the stairs, “Come here!”

She tittered as he led her to the sofa to sit next to Evan. She got comfortable while he cleared away his essay and notes from the table. Her friend, Maisie, joined them a moment later and managed to squeeze in between the two.

Tom had the armchair to himself, and was pleased to see Evan looking uncomfortable next to the younger girls.

“As you might know, my name is Thomas Gaunt, I’m a prefect, and this is my friend Evan Rosier. How are you both?” Tom introduced them pleasantly.

“Um, I’m Maisie Selwyn, and this is Katie Rowle.” The braver of the two ventured.

“We’re staying in Hogwarts over Christmas because our parents went on holiday together to America this year… our mothers are close friends.” Katie contributed, fiddling with a string on her jumper.

“How lovely, Evan’s mother is good friends with Mrs Lestrange, isn’t that right, Evan?” Tom smiled at the boy with all of his teeth, Evan perked up and immediately began rambling about the Lestrange/Rosier family connection.

Good. He could still convince Evan to do what he wanted after all. He sat back and crossed one leg over the other, allowing the dull conversation to be their proof of innocence for the rest of the evening.

~

The next day, they were finally given the all clear to resume roaming the castle as normal, after an announcement was made during breakfast that anyone feeling upset by recent events should visit the hospital wing to talk about it.

Tom had hidden a snort, the first time he’d opened up he’d been forced onto potions, and the second time a girl had died, it was unlikely he’d be talking to anyone else soon. As if summoned by the thought, he did feel Albus’ gaze on him again, but ignored the man with practised ease until breakfast ended, then swept out of the hall with Evan on his heels.

“Where are we off to, then?” Evan half ran to keep up with him.

“Secret.” Tom smirked, casting silencing spells on their shoes and disillusioning charms as soon as they were far enough from the hall. There was the unfortunate side effect that he’d need to let Evan stay close to him so they could travel undetected without losing track of each other, but it wouldn’t be for very long.

He made his way to the second floor and waited to see if anyone followed them. After a tense minute, he dragged Evan into the girl’s bathroom.

“WHA-” Evan yelped, but Tom silenced him further.

Next came a hissed command, “ _Open_.” 

He could imagine what Evan was thinking as the sinks opened up to reveal the dark hole in the floor, Tom was almost gleeful as he found Evan’s arm and dragged him to the edge. Evan resisted for a second, probably wondering what was going on, but Tom had already pushed him into the opening without regret.

He knew it would take about 90 seconds for Evan to shoot out the other end, and counted the seconds in his head. Then commanded the shute to turn into stairs. Tom descended gracefully and closed the sinks behind him.

When he got to the bottom, Evan had just _finite_ ’d himself of the spells Tom had cast, and was panting heavily, covered in grime.

“WHAT. THE. BLOODY. HELL.” He shouted tremulously, his hands on his knees as he focused on breathing.

“Alright, old chap? Good, welcome to the Chamber of Secrets.” Tom explained cheerfully, “Let’s go see the resident 1000 year old basilisk, Fluffy probably misses me.”

“FLUFFY? _Tom_ ?! **_FLUFFY_ **?!” Evan shouted after him.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yes, Tom totally pranked Evan there, I'm not sure that Salazar Slytherin would name his Basilisk Fluffy, but at the very least, Tom is going to let Evan believe that that is her name. Also, pfffft, I too thought it hilarious that Tom thinks his friends are a little bit crazy, when he, himself, had pretty much gone past the point of normal reactions to things like murder. Thank you for your patience and support! We are getting somewhere with this.
> 
> One more fun fact, I tried an anagram solver for Thomas Marvolo Gaunt... the result was "Among Homo Art Vaults". So, "I am Lord Voldemort" won't be happening. But that doesn't mean he can't become a little unhinged...


	17. Into the Chamber 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom and Evan "chat", and duel. Tom and Albus have tea, and chat.

A short while later found Tom and Evan in a small study just off of the main chamber. Evan’s eyes were wide and his hands were trembling, he was still adjusting to having met the basilisk. Tom was struggling to keep a smirk off of his face.

“She really is friendly, you know? She wanted you to pet her, she wasn’t going to eat you.” Tom informed him, recalling the way the basilisk had nudged Evan’s whole body with her head. 

“Yeah… well… maybe next time…” Evan winced, feeling bruises forming on his body from the basilisk’s  _ Friendly Nudge _ .

Tom snorted, and walked over to the desk, claiming the only chair in the small room. He leaned on the desk with his elbows and gave Evan an unconvincing sweet smile.

“So, I believe you were going to tell me all about your dive into dark arts & defence that somehow happened right under my nose?” Tom questioned, “Did the others join you in your endeavour?”

Evan leaned against the wall and folded his arms.

“Right, so, we were already practicing duelling anyway when we started studying advanced self-defence with you, and it just went from there I guess. You were… otherwise occupied and unable to join us in our studies, so Avery had his cousin owl him some books that we were able to study from. We started meeting more often, though there are some spells too dark to practice in Hogwarts without getting caught - I have the books in my trunk if you want to check them out later.” Evan summarised.

“That’s another thing I wanted to correct you on, Evan,” Tom frowned in remembrance, “I often found myself missing those sessions due to prefect duties, but I didn’t stop studying altogether, as you may have started to realise, I have spent time down here practicing instead. I doubt you could beat me in a duel now, for instance, with no distractions.”

Evan had the nerve to smile at the challenge, “Maybe I’ll take you up on that another day. How far down do you think Hogwarts’ wards extend anyway? We must be quite a way under the school, I am curious about what magic you could have been practicing away from us?”

Tom’s eyes seemed to flash another colour for a second as he stood, “Perhaps I should show you, now you have a taste for killing anyway.”

Evan flinched a little as Tom raised his wand at him, but Tom conjured a dummy in front of Evan instead and wordlessly cast a curse that caused a long cut to appear down the middle. The boy watched as Tom cast another curse, the wood splintered in an odd fashion, burn marks spiralled over the dummy like fractals. 

“Just a taste. Imagine if I lost my temper with you, the way you did?” Tom suggested, his voice like silk, “Your heart would fall out of your chest still beating from the first curse alone, the second would stop your heart eventually I suppose - though commanding pure lightning is difficult to practice on a dummy, I imagine I could command it well enough to keep you alive long enough to feel the electricity boiling the blood in your veins until I stopped even your mind from functioning.”

Tom had stepped close to Evan now, smiled despite the threatening words.

“If you interfere in my affairs again, such a fate would be a drop in the ocean of pain I could cause you.” Tom promised, finally seeing fear on the boy’s face. 

Evan nodded solemnly, “I knew… I knew you could be so strong, I am sorry for doubting you, I just want-”

“You will stop wanting. You will forget that I ever allowed you into bed with me, you will forget the day in Diagon Alley - show me that you can simply be what you were to me before - a friend, an ally - or at least useful in some manner, or you will lose your memories of me completely.” Tom told him simply, using Evan’s obsession against him.

“Yes… Tom.” Evan agreed through gritted teeth.

“Wonderful, now I don’t have to leave you down here to Fluffy’s tender companionship. What do you say to showing our faces for lunch in the Great Hall, then returning down here for some duelling practice?” Tom vanished the dummy, “I have also been working on constructing a runic array that’ll help me figure out the weight of a soul - soul magic is a fascinating topic, you know, it is theorised by the Egyptians that-”

Tom led the way back out of the chamber, discussing runes and souls the whole way back to the staircase, and Evan followed, two steps behind him the whole way.

~

Later found Tom somehow sitting on top of a 20ft snake statue, feet swinging a little as he looked down at his confused friend. They were mid-duel, Tom had used the disillusionment charm though to blend with the shadows of the chamber, and a lift from Fluffy had allowed him to scale the statue easily. 

He let Evan wonder for a moment longer, before shooting a barrage of stinging hexes. Evan whirled around and cast a shield charm that caught most of them. He looked up in astonishment and Tom waved down at him.

“Being unpredictable in a duel could mean the difference between life or death, Evan!” Tom asserted, standing and balancing on top of the statue, making it look easy.

He watched Evan mutter, and snorted as smoke appeared around the chamber, obscuring his movements. Tom cast a shield charm and crouched, watching for signs of movement - he waved his wand and a light breeze moved the smoke - a red flash of colour, Tom ducked a stunning spell.

He could hear Evan running, and excitement grew, Tom did so relish duelling - Experimentally, he cast the feather-weight charm on himself and leapt from the statue in Evan’s direction. His movement was much like floating, but the momentum of the leap carried him to the ground where he quickly cancelled the charm and summoned the edge of Evan’s robe, pulling him backwards.

Evan let out a grunt of pain as he collided with the hard stone floor. He was winded by the fall, and in the time it took him to catch his breath, Tom had simply walked over and plucked his wand from his hand.

“I win!” Tom informed him smugly.

“Yeah, yeah…” Evan grumbled, not bothering to get up. Tom laughed freely, and sat down beside him.

“That was good fun, we should definitely bring the others here for training in the new term.” 

“Well, at least it would be nice to see you wipe the floor with someone else. I might need to brew a few cauldrons of bruise salve…”

“If you’ll be brewing healing potions and creams, best to do have a variety, you might need more than just bruise cream if this will be a regular thing. Depends on how rough we get, I suppose.” Tom leaned back on one hand, still holding both of their wands in his other hand.

Before they could say anything else, a slithering sound alerted them to the presence of the basilisk once more, who circled around them and rested it’s head near Tom, eyelids shut to protect him. Tom reached out and patted the large snake.

“ _ Good girl _ .” He hissed, still patting the snake as it leaned into his hand, “ _ Evan is still afraid of you, it’s rather amusing isn’t it?” _

“ _ He is a funny young one _ .” The basilisk agreed. Evan shifted uncomfortably as he sat up, looking warily at the snake.

“I’m never going to get used to  _ Fluffy _ .” Evan grumbled. Tom laughed.

~

Later, Dumbledore was hovering by the doors to the great hall after dinner had ended, Tom motioned Evan on ahead (the boy seemed reluctant to leave his side), and gave Dumbledore a neutral look.

“Good evening, professor.” Tom nodded at the older man.

“Evening, Tom. I hope you are well, I know this holiday season has not given us much cause for celebration. It heartens me to see you spend time with your peers.” Albus greeted him warmly.

“Yes, it has been a tough school year so far all around I think. Evan is particularly  _ supportive _ in these dark times.” Tom replied carefully, clasping his hands behind his back. Albus looked pointedly at the staircase and then back at Tom, “Tea?” 

“Just a quick cup then, professor.” Tom agreed easily, he gestured ahead of him for Dumbledore to lead the way. Both wizards seemed lost in thought as they ascended to Albus’ lounge in his private quarters once more. 

“I have already made a start on the Earl Grey you gifted me, would you like a cup?” Albus asked, hand hovering over the box on his coffee table.

“Of course, I am glad it is to your liking.” Tom smiled, and sat primly in his usual armchair, fighting the urge to relax - he was still, technically, mad at Dumbledore for his lack of answers back in September, though it seemed far behind him now. He tried to put both the events of September, and the more recent events around Christmas, out of his mind.

When two steaming cups of tea were available, Albus sat and finally turned to Tom.

“So, how are you really?” Albus intoned softly, “Were you very close with her?”

“Amanda, you mean?” Tom fought the urge to shift, “I knew her as head girl… we spent some time together discussing prefect rotas, occasionally spoke of school work, I wasn’t that close to her honestly, professor. She was efficient in her duties, and easy to work with. I wish… “ 

Tom hesitated, Albus leaned forward.

“I wish I had known her better, and had been able to ease her burden, perhaps she wouldn’t have been on the tower that day…” Tom could not continue, at this, the sudden loss of words felt quite real compared to the deceptive intent behind them. Luckily, his moment of grief made his innocence seem more real to Albus, who moved to place his hand on Tom’s shoulder in sympathy.

“It is hard to know other’s minds, at times, we hardly know our own struggles - this loss is a reminder to us all that we must pull together to support both those who are determined to seem strong, and those who cannot put on the facade equally.” Albus told him, then he sat back and began to sip his tea. Tom also took his cup from the table and began to sip the tea.

In his head, Tom turned over the words, finding them deplorable for a reason he could not name.

“Do you feel that here at Hogwarts, there is a collective responsibility for the quality of life of every person, sir?” Tom eventually asked.

“Beyond Hogwarts, perhaps even globally, there should be a collective responsibility to try to do what is right, at the very least. How can the good of the world triumph, if we are only concerned with ourselves?” Albus looked remarkably pained at his own words. Tom stared in suspicion at the words, trying to make a connection that he couldn’t place. 

Finally, the quiet words came, “The greater good, sir?” 

Albus flinched, Tom put down his cup slowly and deliberately - he stood, and his eyes and Albus’ met for a moment. No more words were said, Tom left his unfinished tea. Albus stared into the empty fireplace for a long time after he left.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> It took me a little while to find the words for this chapter! I keep trying to get into the next year, honestly, but I still want to write a chapter for Tom's 17th birthday too, that might be the next chapter, then we can start time skipping again. Thank you for continuing to stick with me and this story! <3


	18. 31st December 1943

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom turns 17, unwillingly feels sentiment, and hears from an old friend.

Tom grimaced at the handwriting on the note he’d received, the old man just did not give up.

_ Dearest Tom, _

_ Best wishes on this marvellous day, your 17th birthday. I hope you find the enclosed gift useful for all the years left to come. _

_ Yours most sincerely, _

_ Albus W.B. Dumbledore _

Tom was tempted to add it to the pile of unopened gifts in his trunk from Christmas, and the few that had arrived along with Dumbledore’s this morning. On the bright side, he was 17 - an adult in the eyes of the wizarding world, he’d never have to return to the orphanage, technically, if he could find somewhere to live, as muggles waited until teenagers were 18 before declaring them adults.

He let out an angry sigh and fumbled with the ribbon to open the gift box, a small square thing. He was startled that within the box was a wizarding fob watch - one that projected the movements of the stars themselves to show the time. Fancy, if nothing else. A traditional gift to give young wizards upon reaching their majority. So, why did Tom’s throat feel like it was closing up when he looked at it?

He clicked it open, studied the projection - after many years of both astronomy and arithmancy, it was easy to read - and snapped it shut. His knuckles whitened as he held it in his hand. He let out a long exhale. A steadying breath. This changed nothing, Albus was still a man who had suspected him of murder (even for a moment, there was no denying he had asked about Amanda for that purpose), though Tom was also struggling with the uneasiness rattling around in his head telling him that he had forgotten something - something relating to the words that had struck Albus to their core when they had spoken a few days before.

Tom got dressed, and slipped the fob watch into his trouser pocket.

~

“Happy birthday, Tom!” Evan was already at breakfast in the great hall, the few other students there echoed the sentiment as Tom joined Evan and served himself some toast, eggs, and sausages.

“Thank you.” Tom responded graciously, though he still felt off balance. He said nothing else as he consumed his breakfast, following it up with a glass of water. He was craving a cup of tea, but perhaps he would go directly to the house-elves in the kitchen later rather than cause a fuss trying to summon one in the great hall. He could understand why they wouldn’t want hot water readily available on the table with 1st years running about, but really - it was the holidays damn it and he wanted tea.

Evan may have sensed his mood, and wisely continued on conversation with the others at the table instead. Tom ignored them all, for the most part - though he did look directly at Albus at one point to nod his thanks. The man smiled in response, but did not approach him, for which Tom was grateful.

The breakfast dishes vanishing signalled the end of breakfast, and Tom stood leisurely, letting others file out first before taking a stroll towards the dungeons. He idly wondered what other people did on their birthdays, especially one held in such high esteem, but didn’t dwell on it long. He tickled the pear on the portrait of fruit that allowed access to the kitchen, and opened the door - but paused in the doorway.

Albus and the 2nd year Gryffindor who had stayed at Hogwarts over Christmas were sitting at one of the small tables, coffee and tea between them, (and how had they gotten there and so cosy before he had arrived?) the sight confused Tom before he remembered that Albus was Head of Gryffindor House anyway, and the little student was the only Lion left for the holidays.

An elf took his attention, “Good morning, Mr Gaunt sir, how can I be helping you today?”

“Good morning, Poppy, breakfast was wonderful as always.” He thanked her warmly, knowing flattery went a long way with the elves, “Could I trouble you for a pot of tea and shortbread in the library in about ten minutes?” He asked on a whim, not wanting to sit in the kitchens with  _ company _ .

“Now, Mr Gaunt, you know that the librarian missus doesn’t like students to be eating around her books.” Poppy the house elf gave him a stern look. Tom put on his most innocent expression and smiled, “I’ll be ever so careful, Poppy, and I’ll call you straight away if I have any trouble - I know your cleaning charms are the best.”

Could house-elves blush…?

“Oh sir, well alright, ten minutes! But this is the last time, Mr Gaunt sir.”

“Thank you, Poppy!” Tom smiled brightly once more, and turned on his heel - he wasn’t running from Dumbledore or the Gryffindor child, really, he wasn’t!

He stopped by the Slytherin Dormitory to pick up his neglected assignments and, after a moment of consideration, his diary as well, and headed to the library. No sooner had he reached his favourite table with the view of the lake, did a plate of shortbread biscuits and a tea set appear. He settled into the chair, put his Ancient Runes assignment on the table with a quill and some ink, and poured himself some tea.

These were the things in life that made existence more bearable - quietness after a bustling morning, the familiar dusty scent of books, the aroma and warmth of his favourite blend of tea, the way shortbread crumbled in his mouth sweetly. Perhaps to celebrate, all he needed were a few of his favourite things?

He relaxed, and began his essay contentedly.

He was halfway through the conclusion of his essay when a tap sounded at the window next to him - he looked up startled, at the owl waiting outside of it. He had long finished the pot of tea, and Poppy had been by to take away the plate and tea set. Tom set down his quill carefully and got up to let the owl in.

The owl perched on the back of his chair, and offered the scroll attached to its leg. Tom hummed suspiciously, recognising the elaborate blue ribbon that tied the scroll. What did Malfoy want?

_ My good friend, Thomas, _

_ How much life has changed since I left Hogwarts! I hope this letter finds you well, I am sure you are thriving in Slytherin as nothing less than its king. Celebrate well today on the 17th anniversary of your birth, today you are a fully realised Wizard, and man. _

_ I, myself, will be drinking to your good health this evening, as I prepare to wed my dear Megaera Blishwick. You may have heard rumours of our joining, there were plans for a spring wedding, but alas, tomorrow I shall be a married man and Lord Abraxas Malfoy of Wiltshire. _

_ Strange, as I write this, I can only think of the many days we shared, and it is my deepest regret to not have you attend. Alas, mother has made it clear that only purebloods may attend, and certainly not unattached ones. She believes there would be drama or impropriety if bachelor wizards attend and drink a little too much - perhaps I gave the wrong impression one too many times in the past, and now she trusts no one who is unbetrothed. _

_ I am getting off topic though: Your birthday. I have arranged the goblins to deposit an amount - and don’t protest! - as my gift to you, may the Gaunt Vaults be ever prosperous. _

_ My best wizard should have been you, but I can hear my father coming, and his younger brother has that delightful honour. We shall be headed to the magical leisure alley of Barcelona to celebrate my last night as a bachelor. _

_ Take care, Tom. Our paths will cross again. _

_ Abraxas. _

Tom sneered at the letter, the disjointed and dramatic way it was written was too powerfully reminiscent of the man who had left Hogwarts two years previously. He was sure he could smell firewhisky on the parchment - had Abraxas written to him while  _ drunk  _ of all things? 

It was certainly a surprise to hear from him after so many months of silence, and with such news too, but still… Tom’s wand slipped into his hand easily, and he levitated the parchment to the open window (he realised, belatedly, that the owl had left some time ago). His eyes traced the parchment again, absorbing the memory of the handwriting and the sentiment it contained.

“ _ Incendio. _ ”

The ashes were carried away on the chilling winter breeze, Tom shut the window and returned to his essay.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, that's the end of the implied Tom/Abraxas. Next chapter will be a time skip by a few months! Expect news of Gaunt relatives, Avery and Lestrange will be brought up to speed, the boys learn more dark magic... perhaps they might even pledge themselves to Tom? All is yet to be decided! The characters throw curveballs when I try to stick to my plot notes, so who knows? Hope you enjoyed this chapter! Thank you for sticking with me.


	19. Friday 31st March 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Things get darker. Tom has no family left, and dares to practice the most unforgivable of magic.

Tom would have felt nervous about being summoned to the Headmaster’s office if he was anyone else. As it was, he had spent the last three months training with Evan, Avery, and Lestrange in the Chamber of Secrets without detection by any staff or the ministry. He was completely confident that they did not know of the dark magic they had been practicing.

Still, he was curious, as he could not think of any reason that Headmaster Dippet would need to speak with him. As he ascended the spiral staircase, he took a deep breath to compose himself, he stepped off and walked directly to the door and knocked. He was admitted into the room and took in the circular space and the people within it.

Albus stood at Dippet’s side, looking grim. There was an auror off to the side holding an envelope of some kind. The room was bright in colour and furnishing, but the atmosphere was stifling in it’s seriousness.

“Headmaster? You wished to see me?” Tom greeted, coming to a stop by the man’s desk.

“Ah Tom, my boy, I wish these were better circumstances. This is Auror Benjamin Smithers, he has news regarding your family.” Dippet told him gravely, leaning his elbows on the desk in front of him, “Albus wished to be here for you as you receive this news.”

Albus nodded at him and moved around the desk to stand by him, then he conjured up a pair of chairs in front of the desk, “Sit down Tom.”

“I vaguely know of my relatives… the other remaining members of the Gaunt family, of course, were incarcerated for their atrocious acts against muggles, I believe?” Tom offered up, his heart beating a little faster at the unexpected topic of conversation. He found his way into the chair and sat primly opposite Dippet.

Auror Smithers took his words as his cue, and stepped forward with the envelope.

“Yes, young Mr Gaunt, or I suppose it should be Lord Gaunt now. Unfortunately, late last night we received word of a magical disturbance in the area of Little Hangleton, it seems that Morfin Gaunt, your maternal uncle… Well, suffice to say, he went after a family in the area, and attacked them quite viciously. Aurors attended the scene and there was a resulting struggle, where he resisted arrest. Both the muggle family and Mr Gaunt perished in the confusion. With his passing, Gringotts asked us to pass along this notice of your becoming head of the Gaunt family.” The Auror looked uncomfortable as he passed the parchment to Tom.

“Oh…” Tom responded, taking the parchment, but not looking at it, “I didn’t know him, but this is quite a surprise. I suppose I am the only Gaunt left now.”

“I believe so, you have my sympathies.” The Auror replied stiffly.

“Thank you Auror,” Tom shifted in his seat, feeling Dumbledore looking at him, “May I ask… Do you know who the Muggle family were? Do they have surviving relatives that need any support in light of this?”

“Bless you, son, but there were no surviving family members, the muggle law enforcement have arranged some sort of funeral I believe - as much as they can in these difficult times. The muggle war is taking quite a toll, but if it puts your mind at ease, the muggles were the Riddle family, their names… Mary and Thomas Riddle Sr, and their son Thomas Riddle Jr were the only ones in the house at the time. They had a caretaker for their home and gardens, but he was not present at the scene.” Auror Smithers finished, “Did you have any other questions, today?”

Tom felt nauseous in his seat. There was one other in the room who knew why.

“Oh dear,” Albus murmured, “Auror, if I could have a word…”

Albus stood quickly, and the Auror went with him to speak just outside of the office in hushed tones. The Headmaster, who had stayed quiet through the proceedings, now called a house-elf to get a pot of tea for them all, taking pity on Tom.

“Alright there, Tom?” He asked gently.

“Oh, er, I suppose… It’s just that, my name before I went to Gringotts for the first time was Tom Marvolo Riddle, so I think my Uncle died murdering my father and grandparents… I never knew them, but this is just a bit… of a surprise.” Tom explained awkwardly.

“Oh, merlin’s beard… I’m sorry to hear that, young man.” Dippet leaned forward, and his face was disturbingly sincere, and Tom looked away. He did accept a cup of tea when it was pressed into his hands by Albus when the Professor and Auror returned.

“-Rather an unfortunate situation, but I’ll contact the muggle authorities to see if I can do anything for him. At the least, he’s the last of that family, and money is no replacement for family, but if they had anything, I’ll see that it gets passed onto him.”

“Thank you, Benjamin, I’ll look after Tom from here, please owl us if there is any news.” Albus thanked him. The Auror tipped his hat at the three men, and left through the fireplace in the green glow of floo powder.

Albus poured himself a cup of tea and resumed his place at Tom’s side.

“What a thing to happen…” Dippet muttered, and shifted around some paperwork on his desk. Tom clutched his teacup a bit tighter, feeling a surge of irrational anger at the elder.

“Well… No need to fret, Headmaster, I have been an orphan all my life anyway.” He commented icily. He saw Albus wince from the corner of his eye, but did not turn his ire on the other man. Tom finished his tea in a few burning gulps, and stood.

“May I be excused, Headmaster?” He asked, putting a polite expression back onto his face as much as he could. Dippet seemed torn between reprimanding him and comforting him, but in the end waved his hand to dismiss him. Tom stayed just long enough to see Dippet putting his head in his hands, muttering “Getting too old for this Albus…”

He knew Albus would be patting the old man on the arm in sympathy, but Tom had turned on his heel and stormed away already. It was just like Dumbledore to reach out to the wrong person in a time of emotional crisis. Tom thought angrily to himself that he should know better than to expect any different by now...

~

The envelope was carefully tucked away in his robes, which had been discarded onto Salazar Slytherin’s centuries old desk in the Chamber of Secrets. Tom’s eyes were dark and his jaw could have been carved from granite as he focused on Evan in front of him.

“ _Imperio_!” A feeling of utter control and confidence as the boy’s eyes went blank. Satisfaction at having such power at his fingertips. Avery and Lestrange were off to one side, watching for any slips in control on Tom’s part. The basilisk had made herself scarce, perhaps sensing Tom’s mood.

“Evan, hop on one foot.” He started. They always started with a basic command when practicing, so far no one had been able to resist when Tom cast it yet. Evan hopped eagerly, Tom sighed contentedly, and stood back, lowering his wand but not cancelling the curse.

“Kneel in front of me, Evan.” He coaxed the other boy.

Avery and Lestrange guffawed, “You have to tell him to do something he doesn’t already want to do, remember!” Lestrange called out.

Evan was at his feet, looking up at him with a blissfully blank expression. Tom’s lips curled into a cruel smile. He knelt beside him and whispered the next command in his ear, then stood up to watch.

Lestrange was very confused when Evan crawled to him, presented both of his hands and then pressed his fingers together and _pushed._ There was the normal cracking noise of air bubbles being forced between the joints of his knuckles, then Evan whimpered even as he continued to push and the knuckles crunched in a sickening way, fingers snapping back too far.

“Shall I have you do that next?” Tom purred from across the room, fingering his wand. Evan’s hands were bloody and he had stopped hurting himself, but stayed sat in front of a horrified Lestrange and Avery. Both boys were quiet in response.

“Tsk, come here Evan.” Evan crawled back to Tom with a little difficulty. Tom healed his hands moments later, and removed the imperius curse from him.

“Fuck, that fucking hurt, Tom.” Evan gasped as he came back to himself, flexing his newly healed fingers and cleaning the blood off of his hands with a quick spell.

“Well, you can blame it completely on our friends here.” Tom grinned, “Now, who wants to blow some shit up?”

Evan cheered, and the other two came back to themselves. Blowing things up was their cure all therapy, after all.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So yeahhh, Tom and Dumbles have really grown apart now. Evan, Lestrange, and Avery (I should probably give them first names at some point) are following Tom down the dark magic path, and they likeee it. Evan likes it a little too much, I think. Sorry this chapter was late! Last weekend I had family over because birthday! :D I am 24, jeez. Getting old. Anyway, this was just a glimpse into how things are progressing, who thinks they should invite more people into their dark training? I was tempted to have that practice scene be somewhat different, with Crucio instead, fuelled by his displaced anger, but that might be too big of a dark jump, idk. Thoughts?


	20. Saturday 22nd April 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Slytherin Quartet hang out in the chamber, and Tom brings up some serious Dark magic.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I am sorry for the long wait! Life got me down and writer's block kicked my ass, please enjoy this chapter, and thank you for sticking with me on this. You, the readers, with your kind kudos and comments are the reason I come back to write a new chapter every time.

Evan and Lestrange were duelling in the main hall of the Chamber of Secrets, while Tom and Avery lounged in the study. Fluffy was somewhere in the pipes, chasing various conjured animals the group had transfigured as practice. The noises from the duel echoed as Avery laid on the floor doodling on a piece of parchment, and Tom was at the desk looking at a sheet of arithmancy calculations he’d copied from a book in the restricted section.

“Hm,” Tom hummed, resisting the urge to bite the end of his quill, “Avery… would you say you’re any good at Arithmancy?”

“I’m alright at it, I suppose,” Avery looked up and adjusted himself into a seated position, “What’s up?”

Tom walked over to Avery and sat next to him, “What do you think of this?”

Avery took the parchment and Tom watched as the boy’s eyes darted over the lines of calculation, interpreting the numbers given to him without context.

“Can’t be a spell, not with a factor of _that_ magnitude…” Avery muttered, “Maybe a ritual? The power sacrifice is off the charts though… Tom what is this?”

“Nevermind,” Tom took the parchment back, “Or… well, do you think that someone performing this ritual would get a more powerful effect if repeated?”

“Repeated? I don’t know what this thing does, but the power requirement is insane, I doubt anyone could complete it once, let alone twice.” Avery looked skeptical and alarmed at the question.

“Seven must be out of the question, then…” Tom muttered with a frustrated look. He stood, and thanked Avery for his interpretation. His friend looked concerned, but let it go as Lestrange barrelled into the room with smoke wafting off of his robes.

“He’s mad! Save me!” Lestrange yelled dramatically, diving for cover behind the desk.

Evan burst in, eyes blazing, wand aloft, “Where’s that coward?!” 

Avery stifled a snicker, and Tom’s eyebrows lifted… The boy in the doorway was bright pink.

“Lestrange…” Evan growled.

“Colovaria wears off after a few hours!” The muffled squeak came from under the desk.

Evan stormed around the desk, and kicked his peer with some force, “Bloody bastard… Dinner is only an hour away!” 

~

The next day, the four were back in the chamber, but not to duel. Each student had their homework in front of them. They could have used the library, or their dorms, to study, but why would they when they had the option of their own secret chamber with the added protection of a millenia old basilisk? 

“Charms is _so_ boring these days, why do I need to know the _blackboard writing spell_ of all things, I’m never going to be a teacher, and if I want to write something I have a quick quotes quill or that cool fire spell Tom showed us.” Lestrange whined.

“And Transfiguration last week - Puffskein to paperweight? Why do I need to know that? Why does anyone need to know that?” Evan complained, “Dumbledore is off his rocker, wish we could do something cool, like human to animal transfiguration. Not even Animagus stuff, just like, being able to turn annoying midget first years into toads or whatever.”

“You learn it because the Ministry says so, core subjects are needed for a lot of jobs these days.” Avery piped up, though he had abandoned his notes and was eating a chocolate frog with great satisfaction.

“Bloody ministry,” Lestrange grumbled, “I should do a Scamander and run off to the states and get a book deal out of it.”

Tom gave him an impatient look.

“Some of us are trying to focus. Shut up or I’ll use the blackboard writing spell on your forehead with a basilisk fang as the chalk.” He hissed, to which the boy blanched and looked down at his essay quietly.

The sound of quills scratching filled the space, until-

“Tom?” Avery ventured softly, “What was that ritual yesterday? I can’t get it out of my head.”

“Ritual?” Evan and Lestrange piped up at the same time, dropping their quills.

Tom also put his quill down, and brought an ink smudged hand to his face, tiredly rubbing one side of his head as though warding off a headache. He ran his hand through his hair, which had started to grow out a bit, it would often fall into his eyes if he didn’t style it.

“Have you ever given our discussion more thought since that day we decided to learn how to protect ourselves?” Tom started, weighing his words carefully, “What if there was an ultimate protection that would guarantee you never leave behind unfinished business? How far would you go to secure that kind of protection? Would you sacrifice, say, some blood, some magic… perhaps even a piece of your soul to secure your future, and that of your family?” 

The other three seem to have stopped breathing, only Tom’s low, serious speech filled the space as their mortality confronted them. 

“You would kill to protect your family if you were being attacked, in self defence, I have no doubt. Anyone would. But that’s a one off, this asks if you could kill to protect yourself in the long-run, one, maybe two, deaths to tie yourself to life as long as you need to be here, on this Earth.” Tom continued, eyes gleaming as he leaned forwards. The other three had leaned in to listen to him without even realising it, there was an intimate feeling in the group, an undercurrent of dark excitement at the promises in his words.

“You asked me, dear Avery, my friend, what those equations were for - They are for life, itself.”

“Do you mean,” Evan whispered, looking at the faces on either side of him, before even more quietly he uttered, “A Horcrux?” The most forbidden of magics, the darkest art, that the teen was reluctant to say it outloud, a word with such dark meaning that the only references were found in ancient family libraries.

Tom nodded, “I have known about them for a while, I admit. It really seems like the only way to guarantee we all survive this war, Grindelwald’s soldiers were spotted in Edinburgh and Yorkshire just last week - and that’s only confirmed sightings, he could be filling the country with his men, and the muggle puppets leading the war front - I don’t intend to die by their hands, do you?”

It was clear that Tom had been sitting on this speech for a long time, words flew from his lips in a frenzied, persuasive cascade. The sound of the basilisk out in the main chamber caused a shudder in more than one of the teens; the slithering of scales on stone, combined with the flickering torches and dark topic was eerie.

“I don’t want to die.” Lestrange declared in a quavering tone, “A-and I’d stand by all three of you if their forces came here.”

Tom gave him a grim smile and a nod.

“I have always stood by you Tom, that will never change.” Evan breathed, “You two fellas are alright too I guess.”

Avery let out a nervous laugh at the statement, “You know I have your backs, let’s live forever.”

“You know, if you’re going to live forever, you need to master Charms, Lestrange.” Tom teased, and just like that, the tension broke and all four of them laughed uproariously together.

Many floors above the group, in the Headmaster’s office, a special edition of the daily prophet was being delivered by owl with the headline, “ **DEATH TOLL ESTIMATED 800 AND RISING - GRINDELWALD’S GREATER GOOD AT BORDER.** ”

~


	21. Sunday 28th May 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom is forced to consider therapy, and discusses tattoos with his friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Two chapters in 2 days! I'm on a roll. All the love to you, my readers, kudos-givers, and commenters <3

“Ah, young Mr Gaunt, right on time as always.” The healer greeted him, “Please take a seat in my office, I’ll be right with you.”

Tom did as instructed and tried to hide his curiosity at the student who’d had a transfiguration accident (his arms rather resembled a fish of some kind). He tried not to think too deeply about the reason he had been regularly visiting this office for the past month, but it was difficult. Grindelwald’s first serious attack on England had taken out a wizarding sea village and half of the force sent to assist. Tensions were high all over the school, and exams were right around the corner, it bothered him to think that next year it might be even worse.

“So,” She bustled into the room, closing the door for his privacy during the consultation, “How have you been finding the current dosage of calming potion? Have you been sleeping?”

Straight to business, Tom appreciated that about healers, they didn’t beat about the bush.

“The potions are taking the edge off, but,” Tom hesitated, “I’ve been having panic attacks in the night, I wake up and it’s like I’m in London, except now my nightmares have convinced me that it’s not just muggle bombs to worry about, but with everything else going on…”

“Yes, that awful business with Grindelwald and his men. You’re safe here, at Hogwarts, Tom, and my door is always open if you have a particularly bad night and need extra support. At this time, we have a few treatment options going forwards. I can offer you a stronger calming potion for the night in the hopes that it will suppress the physical symptoms and let you sleep through the night, or we can try to introduce dreamless sleep into your schedule a few nights a week. I am worried though, as dreamless sleep can be addictive, and the anxiety you’ve been feeling will still be waiting for you to address it when you wake up.” The healer explained, sitting opposite him at her desk. 

“I think you should stay on your regimen of calming potions for now, and the stronger one only at night time before bed, but it is your choice. I would also feel better if you’d reconsider my offer of getting in touch with a counsellor from St Mungo’s, they are specially trained to help with a wide variety of mental health issues. Potions alone have been proved to be less effective than talking therapy, combining the two really would be the best treatment for you, Tom.” She finished, making notes on a chart about their discussion.

“I see, I realise you are the expert ma’am, but if you’ll forgive me, I’d rather not consider starting talking therapy this close to the end of term. Perhaps I’ll revisit the idea in the autumn term… But for now, I am happy to take the calming potions, and if I have a particularly bad night, perhaps I can visit the wing for a dreamless sleep? An emergency option, if you will, to avoid addiction.” Tom mused, clasping his hands in his lap and trying not to tap his fingers or scratch at his cuticles.

“Hm, if you are sure, Tom. If you change your mind, come to me at anytime and we’ll set up an appointment for you.” She made a few more notes, and then tapped the page with her wand, it flew into a filing cabinet. “Now, I’ll need a few hours to sort out the exact doses with our potion supplier, but come back after dinner and I should have a box ready for you.”

“Thank you, ma’am.” Tom nodded in appreciation, and stood. She stood to open the door for him, and patted on his shoulder as he left. When he was in the corridor, he let out a huge sigh and leant against one wall. His fingers flexed, his fists clenched and unclenched as he struggled to control the mix of worry and anger that always seemed to plague him these days.

After breathing deeply for a minute, he carried on his route to the chamber.

~

“This time next year, we’ll be doing our actual NEWT exams, it’s so crazy.” Lestrange commented, picking up a Transfiguration magazine from the stack on Tom’s desk in Slytherin’s study.

“Yeah, what are you even doing after NEWTs, man?” Avery was throwing a crumpled ball of parchment at Evan, who would catch it and throw it back to him.

“Er, my mum wants me to marry as soon as possible and make an heir, all this Greater Good stuff is making her crazy. I want to try for an apprenticeship for… something, whichever subject I do best in I guess, runes would be cool, or maybe I’ll swing a curse breaking entry level position if I do well enough in DADA.” Lestrange mused.

“Well, I’m sticking with Arithmancy all the way, if I can get into the Ministry’s research department then maybe I’ll meet a spell crafting master and apprentice with them one day? I’ve heard a lot of the spell research is about mistakes people make when casting you know. I wonder what Unspeakables get up to though…” Avery responded, just as pensive. Evan managed to hit the side of his head with the paper ball.

“Well, I’ll go wherever Tom’s going, if this war is ever over you always said you wanted to travel, right?” Evan declared, bringing Tom into the conversation.

“Yes.” Tom intoned softly, “I wonder what the heat of Africa is like, the wide expanses of Australia, the rich history and traditions embedded in life in Japan and China, the native tribes of America, even the ice magic of nomads in towns near the South and North Poles must be worth learning. I want to see it all.” 

“That’s very ambitious!” Avery observed with surprise, not having realised how strongly Tom felt on the subject.

“We’ll need a way to stay in touch.” Lestrange insisted, putting his magazine down and folding his arms in expectation.

“I actually have an idea for that,” Evan piped up, “I was reading about the protean charm the other day, and it can basically be applied to copy anything, then when you make changes to the original, it’ll show up on all of the copies.”

“You’re a nerd Evan, but it’s a good idea.” Avery teased, grabbing a piece of parchment to write ideas on, “So what object would work for staying in touch?”

“Well, books are out of the question, they’re too easily damaged and anyone could read what we tell each other.” Tom ruled out, “I think we need to simplify this somehow…”

“What are you thinking, Tom?” Evan asked.

“Maybe a way of letting each other know where we are rather than how we are? So we could all meet up?” Tom suggested, “Would coordinates work? Or would we need to somehow combine a location charm somehow with the protean charm? Maybe it would need to be an object that’s layered with multiple charms. It would also have to be something we have on us all the time.”

“I always have my wand, and these knuts.” Lestrange joked, to which the group rolled their eyes.

“Very funny.” Evan said dryly.

“Guys, do you think, or how would you feel about… tattoos?” Avery proposed with a thoughtful look, “We could get matching ones and layer the charms over it?”

Tom sat forward in interest, leaning his elbows on the desk, “That’s an interesting idea, I suppose you have a design in mind?” There were always pages of Avery’s scribbled doodles around their dorm room, and now the chamber.

“A few, but I’ll work on it some more before I show you guys. Thinking on it more, we might have to layer the charms over the ink we use for the tattoos, you know, which would be hard as none of us are tattooists. The only other thing I can think of is one of us gets a regular tattoo and binds it magically… then we could mess with the protean and location spells afterwards, it might work as a ritual, since so many spells need to be combined.” Avery explained, getting excited at the prospect.

“Let me know when you have the basics, I’ll look over the arithmancy with you.” Tom agreed easily.

“Tattoos! Are we a gang now, or what?” Lestrange exclaimed, looking impressed.

“I suppose there are worse people to be connected to, magically.” Evan observed, “Just please don’t let the tattoo be a rainbow or a unicorn or some shit.”

“Snakes, death, and macho manly men, it is then.” Avery deadpanned.

~

“You have a house? Like a whole muggle mansion to yourself?” 

“Yeah, Gringotts sent through a copy of the deeds, as the last living relation, apparently I got everything they had, as well as the Gaunt shack on my mother’s side. Not sure there’s enough disinfectant in the world to make it livable from the reports they sent through. They kept in the  _ ‘old ways’  _ including bathroom habits…” Tom explained with a disgusted expression.

“Oh, er wow, sorry I asked.” Evan looked a little nauseated too, “So, will you be staying in the muggle house or going back to you-know-where after exams?”

“Sadly in the muggle world, you have to be eighteen to be considered an adult, so I don’t have much choice in the matter. This summer will be the last time I stay  _ there _ though.” Tom assured him, “Not like I have a standing invite anywhere else.” He sniped.

Evan winced, “All pureblood families are warding up for the summer and only letting family in, not just my folks…”

"Hm.” Tom murmured, having heard the same excuses year on year from various friends.

Dinner was halfway over, desserts slowly decimated by their peers and younger students around them. Tom allowed himself a small serving of apple crumble but skipped the custard, not wanting to push his lack of appetite too far, he wondered if it was the potions he was on that induced nausea or if he was just doomed to endure a body that hated him.

Gloomily, he ate another mouthful, and glared at a first year who slurped custard loudly from his spoon. The first year yelped and dropped their spoon, Tom suppressed a grin and poured himself some water, drinking it quickly.

“I need to go to the wing, see you back in the dorm.” He informed Evan and left the Great Hall.

On his way up to the Hospital Wing, he pondered on the fact that he hardly seemed to see Albus around the castle anymore - not that he was complaining - it seemed like the man only ever showed up for classes to teach, and then was gone again. Maybe the powerful wizard was finally pulling his finger out and helping the war effort… 

When he reached the Hospital Wing, the healer was in her office with the door shut. He knocked politely, and waited.

“Mr Gaunt! Perfect timing again, do come in.” She beckoned when she opened the door.

Tom hesitated at seeing another person in the room, the very person who had been on his mind in fact.

“If this is a bad time, I can come back…” He offered, eyes fixed on Albus, who looked annoyingly well composed.

“Not at all, come in and sit down young man.” She encouraged, “I have your potions ready, but while consulting with our potioneer about doses, he mentioned that in similar cases where potions are not controlling the symptoms well enough, there are mind arts that can be useful. I’m sorry for not offering it sooner. As Albus is our resident expert on the Mind Arts, I invited him here for consultation with you, I hope that is okay?”

It didn’t seem that his opinion on the topic was wanted either way, so he smiled stiffly.

“Mind Arts? As in Occlumency and Legilimency?” He enquired.

“Yes! The very same, I should have known you’d have heard of them. You may have read that they are best learned under a master of the arts, though of course, through meditation you can achieve rudimentary shields and start to order your mind to manage symptoms such as yours. However, studying it alone, you can never really be sure how effective your efforts are. If you’d like to explore this option, I’m sure we could arrange for some self-help books and maybe a fortnightly session with Albus to see how it is going?” The healer seemed very pleased with herself, happily ignoring the tension between the two men in the room.

“Wouldn’t that mean Professor Dumbledore would be performing Legilimency on me in these sessions?” Tom questioned, finding the idea entirely distasteful.

“Yes, but under supervision by a healer, which can be myself or another healer. You also would have the right to a companion being present if you are not comfortable still with these precautions, your companion may be, for example, a friend, family member, or trusted adult.” She explained further, “What do you think?”

Tom looked down at his hands then at the healer, “Has he even done this before for other students? How do I know that anything he sees in my head will be kept confidential?”

“Tom,” Albus spoke up for the first time, looking pained at Tom’s distrust, “I know we haven’t been particularly close recently, but I am perfectly able to act in a professional capacity for this. I am considered a master of Occlumency and Legilimency and have taught a couple of students before. I can sign a non-disclosure agreement, of course, if you decide to go ahead with this.”

Tom swallowed the swear word that was begging to come out, he was starting to feel trapped in the small office space. He stared into the fireplace, thinking of the box on the desk with his potions in it and just wanting to leave.

“Do I have a choice, here?” Tom asked sullenly.

“You always have a choice, Tom.” Albus tried to comfort him, twisting his own hands in his lap to stop himself from reaching out to his student. He looked to the healer for guidance.

“I have an introductory book that you can borrow. Give it serious thought, it might even help you feel more prepared for your NEWTs next year. There are plenty of benefits to meditation beyond just the ability to protect one’s mind.” She encouraged him, and retrieved a book from her shelf, putting it on top of his box of potions.

“If you read the book and still do not wish to go ahead with these sessions, no one will force you to do them. As you said earlier today, starting a new therapy at this point of the school year may be difficult to fit into your routine, so we can always revisit the topic in September.” The healer reassured him. Tom let out a small sigh of relief. 

“Okay, I’ll think about that too then, along with the talking thing.” He told her. She wrote some notes, and signed at the bottom.

“Great, come back next Sunday at 10AM for your next box of potions, send me a note or pop by if you need an appointment to discuss any of this further.” 

Tom stood immediately and took the offered book and potions, he nodded stiffly at both adults and left the Hospital Wing swiftly, headed straight to his dormitory.  _ There was no escaping the old man,  _ he thought angrily,  _ he just had to poke his nose in. _

Evan looked up questioningly when Tom stormed in and threw the book into his trunk with force, the potions went more delicately onto his bedside table. Tom shook his head to indicate that he didn’t want to talk about it, and went to the showers. 

Later, he wondered to himself if he had been trying to wash off his emotions by standing under the hot water for so long.

~


	22. Monday 4th September 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's seventh year begins, he goes to Potions, visits the hospital wing, and recalls the first time he had tea with Albus.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I don't really have an excuse for the lateness of this chapter. I had the first scene written for a couple of weeks before I knew how to continue. Then I had inspiration for Two Kingdoms, and took until tonight to find the words for the rest of this chap. Hope it was worth the wait! All my love, dear readers. Riddle~

Tom walked into the Great Hall looking pensively at his hand, on which he wore the Gaunt family ring. It was an odd looking thing: A black stone set into a gold band. He’d picked it up from Gringotts over the summer, when he was invited to confirm inheritance of the Gaunt and Riddle estates - luckily they were able to absorb the muggle side of things for him (for a fee, of course). He was considering using the winter break to check out his ‘new’ property to see if it was livable.

Today was the first day of lessons for his final year at Hogwarts, it really was strange to think that he would be out on his own in less than a year. Hopefully, it would be a quiet year without any acromantula, terrorism, or accidental homicide… maybe? He could hope anyway, as Head Boy he could really do without the trouble, he’d be busy enough arranging prefect duty and arranging tutoring for the younger years.

The first lesson of the year was Potions, professor Slughorn was still teaching it, though all through the previous year he had hinted that he wanted to retire before Grindelwald’s war spilled over from Europe properly. It seemed he had decided he was better off at the castle. Tom wondered if he had the right idea, but then, if he stayed on at Hogwarts (teaching? with his anxiety?) he’d never travel. Unacceptable.

Tom was the first to the potions classroom, as always, and leisurely prepared his cauldron - Slughorn always started with the last potion they’d learned at the end of the previous term. He took out his textbook and flicked through the pages. His peace and quiet was never to last though-

“How did you pass Potions well enough to still be here, Lestrange?” Tom asked with incredulity.

“Good morning to you too,” The boy greeted with a wide grin, “Exceeds Expectations, I’ll have you know. I guess my theory paper made up for what happened with the Elixir to Induce Euphoria…”

“Yeah, we agreed to never discuss that again.”

“Good point. Hey Evan! Avery!” Lestrange waved to their friends and they set about making themselves comfortable at their chosen desks.

“It’s too early for your brand of cheerfulness. Did you get laid on the way here or something?” Evan mumbled grumpily, pushing Lestrange out of the way to claim the desk next to Tom.

“Wouldn’t you like to know, prude-face.” 

“Prude-face? What does that even mean?” 

“Er-”

“Settle down, class!” Slughorn entered then, and Tom noticed the rest of the meagre NEWT-level potions class had filtered in as well. 

“Welcome back everyone, welcome back, it is good to see our numbers have not thinned out too much after the exams back in June. I hope your holiday hasn’t emptied your minds out too much, hm? Let’s get back into the swing of things with a nice little bit of revision, who remembers the three integral ingredients of an Everlasting Elixir?” Slughorn droned on, gesticulating at the chalkboard, which threw up some notes as he gave a short lecture and then let them start brewing. 

Evan volunteered to get ingredients from the cupboard for them both, while Tom filled his cauldron with a base of water and exactly 11 drops of essence of comfrey, turning the base a light golden colour. Avery was doing the same while Lestrange followed Evan to the store cupboard.

“So, how was your summer?” Tom asked casually, adjusting the heat to high, hoping Evan wouldn’t take forever collecting their ingredients. Avery grimaced, and tapped his fingers on his desk.

“Well, my family was a bit unbearable, they now think that Grindelwald has a point with some of his policies and maneuvering themselves politically to support him if he gets more of a foothold over here… On a positive note, I finished the design for our communications project, just need you to check the arithmancy again, we could probably go ahead around Samhain.” Avery explained in as much detail as he could get away with outside of the Chamber.

“Well, a mixed bag of news there, for sure.” Tom frowned, “My last summer with the muggles was surprisingly quiet, the children were rather subdued. No surprise there, the muggle war is decimating their population by the day. I suppose they’ll be glad of the extra bed with all of the new orphans.” 

“Well, this is entirely too grim a conversation, would you like to hear about my summer romance instead?” Lestange returned with Evan in tow, and immediately began to tell them about Portia Starthistle, his latest conquest.

~

After potions, Tom had to attend the Hospital Wing during his free period for a quick appointment - pick up new potions, see how he was getting on, if he was going to agree to have Dumbledore poke around in his head - Very tedious. So it was understandable that he took his time getting there, and had his jaw clenched from the moment he stepped into the sterile room.

“Ah Mr Gaunt, welcome,” The healer greeted him, locking her potions cupboard and ushering a blushing third year out of the hospital wing around him.

“Good day to you.” Tom greeted, following her as she gestured for him to follow to her office.

“So, take a seat. As I recall, you continued on your potions to the end of term with a summer package, and were considering your options for alternative or additional treatment last time we had a consultation. While I am pleased for you that your exam results were so exemplary despite your anxiety, I was not happy with your physical results - Quite frankly, you’re underweight, and your mental health is not helping matters. Nutritional potions are not really a route we want to go down as they are not a good replacement for three full meals a day, and won’t give you the calories you need to put on.” She went right into matters, and Tom withheld a flinch at her matter-of-fact tone.

“Honestly, Ma’am, there isn’t much food to go around over the summer at the orphanage, so I’d rather not get used to larger meal sizes and suffer more as a consequence. I’m used to being hungry and have learned to ignore it.” Tom admitted under her unmovable gaze. 

“Hm. Well, I believe you were not intending to return there once you are of age in muggle years, so that’s no excuse any longer young man. Please make more of an effort to eat at all communal meal times this term, and we’ll revisit the matter after Halloween. If you have not started gaining by then, I will assign a house-elf to monitor you if necessary.” Again, Tom felt cowed by her words, that felt more like a threat than anything else.

“Okay then.” He agreed. Her demeanor softened.

“Good,” She cleared her throat, and waved her wand over him, “6ft2, 120lbs. I can teach you the measuring charm if you don’t already know it so you can monitor your progress, but ideally in the next 10 weeks you should be aiming at a gain of 8-10lbs, if not more. If you find yourself struggling, you can come to me before our November session and I’ll give you an eating plan. The first step though, will be not skipping meals.” Tom nodded, and she continued.

“Now, on another note, have you made a decision on talking therapy, or the mind arts?” 

“Well, I looked into Occlumency as suggested, and have been studying the art on my own over the summer, I do feel that I have made some progress.” Tom offered, feeling distinctly uncomfortable.

“Good to hear, would you like me to set up appointments for some guided sessions with Professor Dumbledore?” She asked, fairly business-like in manner.

“I… think I’ll reach out to him myself, and agree a schedule, at which point we will confirm with yourself? I remember you saying something about needing a healer present.” Tom wasn’t happiest about this route, but who better than his old mentor to test the defences he had put up? Better the devil you know. He was confident that the older man wouldn’t see anything he didn’t want him to see. The healer looked at him piercingly, then noted down his suggestion in his file.

“Of course, I hope to hear from you soon. Now, since you have started the mind arts, do you think you could manage a reduction in your potion strength? Or would you like to continue as before until a few guided sessions have taken place?” She asked. Tom was surprised at the question and hesitated, giving himself a moment to think before answering.

“I… will try the reduced strength, after all, I can visit the wing if I have problems, right?” Tom questioned, then at her nod, “Yes, I’ll try the reduced ones then.”

A few minutes later, he was on his way to the room of requirement, his potions shrunk and placed in his bag.

~

It had been a while since he’d visited the Room of Requirement, after starting to frequent the Chamber of Secrets with Evan and the others, he had simply not found the time. Now though, he craved solitude and the familiar environment he’d created a dozen times before to escape the rest of the castle. As he dumped his bag on the floor and removed his shoes to curl up on an oversized armchair for a nap, he tried to ignore the pang that the room always looked a little like the sitting room in Albus’ staff quarters.

He remembered the first time he’d been invited there.

_“Lemon sherbert.” Tom commanded, feeling ridiculous as he gave the password to enter._

_“Ah Tom! Welcome, my boy.” Albus smiled at him from his sofa, already holding a cup of tea in his hand. “Do you like tea? I always find that it stimulates a conversation as much as it soothes. Do take a seat.”_

_Tom was twelve, Slytherin house was proving to be quite the viper pit, though he was generally accepted as being from a good bloodline, the Gaunt family name was not a popular one in society, and he was often sneered at for being part of the infamously poor, inbred, and insane family._

_Therefore, it was unsurprising that when he sat, he sat on the edge of his seat, bag still on his shoulder, eyes alert. He sniffed his tea that was offered to him before drinking it, though he only took one sip during the whole visit._

_“So, how are you settling in?”_

_“Fine. I mean, yes, fine.” Tom answered, furrowing his brow as he thought of his classmates, whom he was struggling to connect to, “Most of my peers grew up in the Wizarding World, it feels like a disadvantage when they all know each other already, I feel like I’m navigating in a world where I’m the only one who doesn’t know the rules… if that makes sense. It’s so much better than the muggle world though, I don’t think I’ve ever seen so much food in one place before, and the teachers are all very nice. The ghosts were a surprise.” Tom elaborated, tapping his fingers on the rim of the teacup he held._

_“It sounds like you’ve had a bit of a culture shock, my boy, I’m sure you’ll get the hang of things soon enough. Hogwarts’ prefects tend to be useful in this instance, why not make friends with one of them and then you’ll have a student guide. I’m sure you don’t want to bottle up all your questions for too long, although my door is always open to you, Tom.” Dumbledore smiled, and his beard moved with his face, almost twitching comically._

_“Older students, hm, I suppose it couldn’t hurt.” Tom was already thinking of the older students he’d seen flocking around a particularly wealthy young pureblood with blond hair._

_“That’s the spirit. This has been lovely, next time I think I’ll ask the house-elves for some shortbread. I’ve tried to get their recipe you know, but they’re so secretive. You should visit them sometimes, there’s a portrait of fruit…”_

Smiling to himself at the memory, Tom fell asleep.

~


	23. Friday 8th September 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom practises the mind arts, he discovers something unexpected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the wait! I know my updates have slowed down a bit. I hope you all had a lovely christmas if you celebrate it, and a happy new year. Please enjoy this (little bit dramatic) chapter!

“Okay, again. I want to be prepared for tomorrow.” Tom insisted, inviting Avery to cast upon him.

“ _Legilimens_.” Avery cast, face twisted in concentration. He was fairly inexperienced, but the best caster of Tom’s three friends of this particular spell. They had pain relief potions on standby. Tom focused on his mental defences and which memories he wanted to hide as the spell rampaged through his mind.

_A quick flash of being in the library when it is empty, then another clip where the library is full, Tom standing in the aisles of books trying to find the one he needs while a group of Hufflepuff girls gossip nearby…_

_Abraxas leaning close, intoxicated and offering him another drink, his grin and good mood is contagious, Tom accepts the drink._ Wait, no, that’s not meant to show up. Tom focuses on directing Avery towards study memories again.

_There’s a glimpse of study with stone walls, the Chamber just beyond, but then it is gone, replaced by the library again, Tom alone and the tapping of an owl on the window. Tom stands up to open the window, the vision is replaced by a prefect meeting, the Head Girl is wondering if they should ask for permission to throw a Yule Ball, Tom doodles on some parchment._

_The next memory, a flash of Amanda’s face as she leans in to kiss him-_

Tom forces Avery out, sweat pouring off them both and pain shooting through their skulls. Evan and Lestrange help them sit on the cool floor. The worried hisses of the basilisk in the chamber beyond reached Tom and he hissed out a platitude to placate her while he recovered. Avery looked worried through his own pain then schooled his features to neutrality and wisely stayed silent about what he had seen.

“Do you want to stop for today?” He asked instead, wiping his face with the sleeve of his robe.

“No, I think we should try one more time.” Tom insisted, Evan scowled.

“Again? Tom, you don’t need to prove yourself to us-”

“Oh, for merlin’s sake Evan, shut up. Avery?” Tom snapped. physically pushing Evan away from him and standing up, holding the wall for balance. Avery nodded wearily, and Lestrange silently helped Avery up, hovering next to him as he readied himself to cast again.

“ _Legilimens._ ”

This time Tom used his iron will to direct Avery away from his memories altogether. He felt the other probing his mental defences, he suppressed everything he had ever felt and focused on the image of a wall, impossibly high, unfathomably wide, he visualised himself on one side and Avery on the other. He felt triumphant, tranquil, he spread his arms out in his mindscape, victorious.

_For the greater good..._

He stumbled.

The image he’d clung to was disturbed by a whisper, Avery clearly had sensed it too and pursued it, the tiniest crack was all he needed to push back into his mind. They both followed the memory, elusive as it was. All they found was the distinct memory of the scent of tea, a feeling of anger, and that deep, conspiratorial whisper - The voice of Albus Dumbledore, raspy and disturbed and almost erased.

They both returned to themselves, Avery ending the spell.

“Enough, enough.” Tom instructed, mystified and disturbed, he went to the desk and sat shakily down - he couldn’t force his hands to be still no matter how he tried. “Evan?”

“Yes, Tom?” The boy was at his side in an instant.

“How exactly… does someone know if they have been obliviated?”

~

He couldn’t sleep that night, the group were all equally disturbed at the hole in Tom’s memory, though Avery and Tom had not gone into detail with the other two about the lingering impression of whatever memory it had been. The whisper, the thread and hint of what had been could not be explored, it was just a dead end no matter what Tom had tried - he had meditated and tried to throw his own magic into it. But the magic that had taken his memory was that of his mentor, he was sure, and had been thorough. 

Tom would have never had a clue the memory was gone if he hadn’t pushed his mind so far with practicing the mind arts. The momentous headache afterwards was worth it, though, his sense of mistrust of Albus Dumbledore had originated after the incident in Diagon Alley the year before, but the extension - and the way Dumbledore hadn’t pushed to fix their connection like he had expected… Perhaps the missing memory was why. He didn’t want to sleep, he wanted to find answers.

Even seeing Amanda’s face again in his memory, though it had tripped him up at the time, seemed to pale in comparison to this new crisis. Like an itch he couldn’t reach, it was all he could think about. He sat up in bed and traced his quill over and over in circles on a page in his diary even after the ink had run out.

What could be so terrible that the paragon of all things Gryffindor could have stooped so low? Was it something Tom had done? Had he walked in on something? Or done something? Tom huffed in frustration and threw the quill and book down. He sat back and drew his knees up to his chest, holding them in the wish that things would make more sense that way. 

The mind arts session was tomorrow. With the way this was consuming him, he’d never be able to hide it, but what if he confronted Dumbledore and it turned out that the man had done it to protect him? Or worse, what if the man had done something truly awful? And the truth would out in front of the observing healer, to make matters worse.

It was no good. Tom picked up his wand and peeked through the curtains of his four poster bed, it seemed his roommates were asleep. He slipped out of bed and out of the room, casting the disillusioning charm as he went. Silently, he made his way out of the common room and walked the familiar halls of the castle. It was a moonless night, he noted as he passed a window, and in less time than he’d prefer he was in front of Albus’ personal quarters. The portrait was asleep, Tom stood outside for a long time.

It made him jump, therefore, when he heard footsteps, and the light of an unspoken _Lumos_ hurt his eyes, he stepped back from the portrait and turned to see the man he’d been thinking about, wearing slippers and carrying a glass of milk.

“Out so late, Tom?” Albus queried kindly, Tom snorted and cancelled his disillusioning charm, of course his mentor would see through it.

“Good evening, professor.” He greeted, aware now of his cold, bare feet on the stone, and hunger gnawing at his insides from struggling to eat dinner earlier in the day. Now he was face to face with the other, he wasn’t sure what to say.

“Isn’t it chilly tonight? Would you like to come in?” The man asked rather airily, giving the password.

Tom simply followed the professor into the lounge and stood in the entrance as the older man busied himself lighting the fireplace and making tea. The glass of milk was put on the table and Tom stared at it in confusion, wondering why the man had even gone out at this time to the kitchens for it.

“Come sit by the fire, Tom, you look freezing. It has been a while, do you still like a little sugar in your tea?” Tom nodded absently and sat on the edge of his - though really, it was Albus’ - armchair. The same seat he’d sat in a hundred times when speaking to Albus of one thing or another.

Albus made himself comfortable on the sofa and the tea was on the table between them.

“Now, I suppose you’d like to talk about why you were breaking curfew to visit me? If you have changed your mind about tomorrow…”

“No.” Tom spoke up suddenly, picking up his cup from the table and letting the china burn his fingers a little, to wake him up, to _feel._

“No?”

“I haven’t changed my mind.”

“I see.”

Tom sipped his tea, the liquid warmed him through, he felt it move through him and considered that he hadn’t really let himself have something as simple and as nice as tea for a while. Perhaps he had been punishing himself. Albus didn’t speak but he did pin him with his gaze in a way Tom found it difficult to understand.

“Look, I was meditating and- Well, I was practicing occlumency and I think… Not that I want you to get the wrong idea, but I think I have been memory charmed. The magic feels like you. I didn’t want to have to bring this up in front of the healer tomorrow, but at the same time, I couldn’t sleep wondering what it could be that you’d feel the need to hide from me.” The words fell from him, and aged Albus visibly.

“You’ve always been so perceptive Tom. It is no surprise that you have excelled in the mind arts in the same way you have done at everything else. It was indeed me, and if you’ll indulge me a moment to explain, I shall try to assuage your worries.” Albus informed him quietly, looking into his cup, rather than at Tom, now.

Tom put his cup down and fixed his gaze on Albus, frowning and inwardly furious, desperate for the truth. He would get the truth. He had to.

“You see,” Albus watched Tom, the unholy light of his unnaturally focused eyes, the determination warring with the dark circles under his eyes, “You had a panic attack, here, and you asked me to take the memory away.” He tried, sipping his tea and taking measured breaths.

“That doesn’t sound right.” Tom accused.

“It was some time ago, we were discussing the war-”

“Tell the truth!” Tom demanded, standing.

“Tom.” Albus sounded tired, pleading for leniency. He put his cup down too now.

“What could be so terrible that you have gone to such lengths? I remember the last time I had a panic attack here, I woke up in the hospital wing and have been on potions ever since! Don’t try that one on me, I have no doubt you would have done so again. You certainly wouldn’t have obliviated me, what a weak excuse, tell me what really happened.”

“Tom, sit **down** .” Albus insisted, growing fed up, “We _were_ discussing the war, you _did_ get upset, and it was best for you to forget that particular discussion. That’s the truth.”

“Oh, but as usual you have left out the when, where, and any real information, any useful detail.” Tom ranted, now seated again, but agitated all the same.

“I don’t care to put you through that pain again.” 

“And I don’t care for people rummaging through my mind, taking out whatever they like, doing whatever they like and leaving me none the wiser! Despite our distance, I have always believed you were a trustworthy authority figure in a castle of people I’d rather forget. You are proving me wrong.” Tom knew he was pushing too far, his hands grasped the edge of his seat to prevent him leaping up again, he itched to take out his wand and force answers from the man.

“You speak of trust, Tom, but you have not come to me about anything important in your life for some time. I don’t believe you have been truthful to me about your involvement with Amanda last year, for example. You and your close peers have been rumoured to disappear from the castle for hours at a time, shall we discuss your activities in those hours? Or what happened when you left the christmas feast with the late Head Girl back then? She died the very next day, but I gave you space and the chance to come to me. I am so disappointed that you never did.” Dumbledore lectured him in return. Tom felt as though he had swallowed ice, he snapped out of the haze of rage and went quiet, looking very seriously at the professor. 

In his self-absorption, he had forgotten that he was not the only one who looked, the only one who saw what was happening around him. 

“Nothing to add, Mr Gaunt?” Albus asked sharply.

“Those matters are not the question at hand. I don’t know when you erased my memory but it is likely I was still a minor at the time. It is a very serious crime, Albus.”

“Not as serious as murder, Tom. If that is what happened.”

“How could you accuse me of-”

“Then how about we both start telling the truth, to avoid such unseemly suggestions.”

The fire was too hot now, his pyjamas had seemed too little to wear for walking around the castle before, but now with fear and anger warring inside him, it was too much. Tom took a sharp and deep breath in, and exhaled slowly.

“I don’t know where to begin.” Tom admitted. Albus softened a little at his student’s lost look.

“We could have broached the subjects more slowly in your mind arts sessions, but perhaps we should get on the same page off record first. I’ll start, and I’ll tell you the truth. Can you do the same for me, Tom?” Albus asked, refilling his cup and heating it to a drinkable temperature.

“I’ll try.” Tom nodded, trembling, now faced with the very confrontation he had feared.

“Let’s begin.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> There we go! Finally, Tom has discovered his missing memory. Will these two idiots finally be honest? If they are, what will their respective responses be to the revealed truths? I hope you enjoyed reading! Until next time, dear readers~


	24. Confessional

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dumbledore pours his heart out, and then some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had to write this today! Only a day after the last chapter hahaa, it was in my head. But it definitely didn't go as I expected. The characters kinda ran away with this on their own. Shit gets dark y'all. Be ready for drama.

“I suppose, I should explain to you that I cannot retrieve the memory I took from you, though I can show you in a pensieve later perhaps if you wish. I happened upon you while you were studying, and we retired here for tea. This was last year, Christmas Eve, in fact. I know you were still angry at me for not being able to give answers to you following that awful business in Diagon Alley, so I shared some personal information with you.” Dumbledore started, looking into the fireplace, the light of the flames lit up the lines which had started aging his face more and more lately. Even the once vivid colour of his beard was starting to pepper. 

“I should start by saying that once upon a time, I had a family - mother, father, sister, and brother - Who you may even know - Aberforth, he runs the Hog’s Head pub. When my sister was very young, some muggles saw her doing magic and beat her for it, they called her a freak and left her near catatonic.” Albus, still staring into the flames, did not see Tom’s flinch at this revelation, “Naturally, my father was furious and killed all three boys… he went to Azkaban, leaving my mother to care for my now disabled sister, my brother, and I.”

“I should have stepped up more, but I was more focused on myself at the time, I was a selfish young man. Perhaps I still am. The story picks up again from my seventeenth summer, when a boy came to stay with his aunt near our home. By then, my mother was quite ill, the stress of keeping my sister calm… I can hardly explain even now my regret.”

Tom listened quietly, his face impassive at this description of a family he could never relate to. He did not drink, but watched instead the older man.

“With things inside the home as they were, I took to the young man who had arrived, he was about my age, and we were both talented young wizards. I believe we were even closer than yourself and young Mr Rosier, or Mr Malfoy when he was still at Hogwarts.” Albus laughed dryly, and Tom looked ready to interject or correct the assumption, but held his tongue.

“We were so full of ideas, and how to fix the world. Of course, that bubble burst when my mother passed. Aberforth was still only fifteen but he was there. My sister was inconsolable, and I had no idea how to manage her, I was out of the house more than I should have been. Not a week had passed from my mother’s funeral when I went to Aberforth to tell him I would be travelling with the young man, and he blew up at me. Verbally that is.”

“I wanted to get away, and he rightly told me that I should be stepping up as head of the family, looking after him and Ariana, my dear little sister. At the wrong time, my friend entered the house sparking an even bigger argument. Things got rather out of hand, we began to duel… Ariana died. Caught in the crossfire.” Albus choked a little here, Tom looked away, not wanting to see the man’s tears.

“Aberforth rightly still blames me, and I sent my friend away.” Dumbledore trailed off.

“And what does this have to do with my missing memory?” Tom probed when Albus didn’t continue.

“Well, Tom… that young man who had such a big impact on me was Gellert Grindelwald.” Albus confessed, still crying, “I loved him.”

Tom was shocked to his core, the phrase echoing in his mind…

_Gellert Grindelwald. I loved him._

_For the Greater Good…_

_Loved him._

_Gellert._

“I… can scarcely believe this tale. You,” Tom scoffed, “Loved the young Grindelwald, the man who has now killed thousands?”

“Yes, and it was this that I told you before. I took the memory from you because I could not bear your disappointment, though you were right to judge me. Still, it was months ago, and I have had plenty of time to think about your words from then, my more pressing concern is how you responded - as though punishing me even though you no longer knew my terrible secret.” Albus pressed on miserably, putting down his now cold tea - no longer wanting it. Tom was still reeling and his head snapped up in confusion.

“What do you mean?” Tom asked, uneasy.

“You hinted to me later that you knew, you quoted his slogan at me later that same day if you recall. The next day, that terrible business, Amanda’s fall… Though by all reports you were nowhere nearby, I fear that this is not true, I fear for your soul, Tom, if what I fear is true. If you have delved into dark arts outside of these walls out of your fear of the war. We all do terrible things out of fear - I, for example, through inaction, have let Grindelwald spread his darkness and death throughout Europe, and now in Britain too.” Dumbledore seemed to be stuck in a spiral, all of his dark thoughts pouring out of him now that the seal on his confessional had been broken.

“But Albus, I didn’t-”

“From the first time I met you, I feared that you held the same darkness within you that he does, and so I have tried, I tried to guide you to the light, my boy. Tell me, have I failed you too?” Albus moved to kneel before Tom, holding him by his shoulders, looking him in the eye, “Tell me!”

Tom, now frightened, pushed Dumbledore away and scrambled to his feet. 

“Professor!” Tom pulled out his wand and lingered nervously by the doorway of the room, “Believe me. I never harmed Amanda, I am not **him**!” 

“Liar!” Dumbledore roared, leaping to his feet with a surprising speed, “ _Legilimens_!”

There was no time to prepare, Tom screamed as Albus tore into his mind, and it was only now that Tom briefly wondered if perhaps the man had been drinking before he had found him, if the glass he had been carrying was an illusion.

_She really was beautiful, if not broken, as she pulled him closer in the prefect’s bathroom, covering his lips with her own, tasting of whiskey-_

_No, wait Evan was in his lap, “_ **_This is all I can give you_ ** _.” He nodded and clung to him desperately, the room of requirement changed around them._

_Smoke! Pain and smoke and someone calling his name.-_

_Clutching his bookmark tightly, curled up under a thin sheet, Hogwarts seemed like a distant dream when he was away from it.-_

_The basilisk nudged him, he smiled fondly and her scales where smooth under his hand when he stroked her nose-_

“What was **that**?” Albus stopped, confused, he stood over Tom, who had fallen back against one of the many bookcases in the lounge and was now on the ground.

“A- a pet.” Tom panted, terrified, his shields were barely holding back the things he truly wanted to hide.

Albus snarled incoherently at the statement and dove back in, digging deeper.

_Abraxas’ breath was hot on his ear, Tom shivered in the night air, swaying a little as he drunkenly walked through the streets of Hogsmeade, it was dark and the ground was icy. Abraxas’ arm around him grounded him, he briefly wondered when the other boy found time to study-_

_Billy pushed him harder and he fell in the mud, Tom snarled and leapt at the other boy, knocking him down. They struggled before Tom was pulled off of him by an older kid. “_ **_You’ll regret this_ ** _,” Tom promised darkly._

“So long ago…”

_Evan’s face looked up blankly at him, he was bending his fingers back, the walls were all stone-_

_Books stacked high, equations on parchment and his hair a mess. “Yes, yes… seven! Dear merlin… Seven…” He dropped his quill and backed away, horrified at how intrigued he was.-_

_Amanda again, blowing smoke in a strangely neat circle, so charming, so very un-pureblood as it was possible to be._

_“Do you fear death?”_

_“It just… ends. It just means we stop.”_

_Tom wanted her to stop, was darkly fascinated at the thought, she was in his lap and her lips were on his and nothing had ever made sense, so why would this?_

“You **were** with her…”

_Evan’s wand in his face, Amanda knocked out on the floor, his spell misses and red overtakes him. A vague awareness of being carried, pressure on his lips._

_“What. Happened?”_

_Tom, despairing and angry advances on Evan, who looked both smug and scared all at once._

“ENOUGH!” Tom bellowed, his nose was bleeding and his head was hurting. His magic reacted to his need as it had when he was a child and Dumbledore was blasted backwards, landing on the table and breaking the teacups, teapot, and the table itself. It was a miracle that their argument hadn’t already woken the castle. There wasn’t time to think about it, while Albus was down, Tom drew blood from his own hand and desperately hoped he could remember all the steps to the protection ward he’d read about.

He drew three runes on the floor in his blood and took a deep breath, “ _Ulinzi_.” Light flashed and the shield formed around him.

He watched Albus, who was groaning in pain, no doubt injured from the broken china and wood. The man pulled himself up out of the wreckage, and looked mournfully at his student.

“Tom…” He mumbled, “Sorry.”

Tom couldn’t believe that the man was only sorry now that he had seen that he hadn’t done a damn thing to the girl. 

“You’re sorry? For what, professor, for accusing me? Assaulting me? How about for mind-raping me? Have you completely lost your mind?” Tom snarled, shaking but thinking of a hundred different torture curses he’d read that he would unleash if the man raised his wand at him again.

“Yes… Yes, I’m sorry.” Came the soft words, “Tom, please.”

Tom didn’t move, poised ready instead. Albus stood and hissed in pain, holding his wand low and away from Tom he accio’d out the broken china and splinters from his back, the soft muttering of the spells almost soothing if not for the high level of tension in the room.

“I won’t hurt you, my boy, you can take down the shield.” Albus sighed tiredly when he was done, summoning a blood replenishing potion from his personal supply of emergency potions, then he cast a minor healing charm - the cuts sealed up so they didn’t bleed anymore, but they were only scabbed over, not gone.

Tom was almost annoyed at how impressive the man could be when he then waved his wand in a grand sweep and the broken furnishings all reformed, leaving only some blood and the bad atmosphere as evidence of what had happened. He did not lower his shield. Only when the man slumped on the sofa did he even move an inch. Tom knew his back was likely bruised up and down from the shelves he had hit when the man advanced on him before, and winced as he straightened up a bit.

“Throw your wand over here and I’ll consider taking down the shield.” Tom offered instead.

“Are you intending on staying in there forever? That particular ritual shield feeds off of your magic, you know, you’ll exhaust yourself before long.” Albus sighed, but complied, rolling his wand along the floor to within Tom’s reach. 

Tom cancelled the shield but kept a tight grip on his own wand and Albus’ after picking it up, he did not sit down.

“You had no right to do any of that, it came out of nowhere. What in Merlin’s name possessed you? Do you really think me evil?” Tom’s voice trembled as he spoke, and he hated himself - hated Albus for making him feel this way.

“No, Tom, you’re not evil. I suppose out of the two of us, I have much more to atone for.” Came the solemn response, “Are you okay?”

“Fine.”

“You hit the shelves pretty hard. Help yourself to anything from my potions kit on my desk.” Albus instructed, showing concern that Tom found hard to believe. Tom ignored him.

“I mean, I’ve made questionable choices in my time at Hogwarts, I know, and I’m in Slytherin and you Gryffindors have this notion that we’re all evil, but I should be calling the Aurors, Albus. You sat there and told me your life story and expected me to feel pity, but you could still _lose_ more, I could ruin you, old man. But instead…” Tom shook but stood his ground, he was in pain but determined to say his piece, “Instead, I want you to get the fuck out there and put a stop to your ex-whatever he was, at least try. If you want to atone at all for the horrible fucking things you’ve done here tonight, let alone whatever happened to your sister, you’ll contact the ministry tomorrow and work with them on stopping that wizard. Then, when I leave Hogwarts at the end of the school year, I never want to hear from you again, successful war hero or otherwise.”

Albus looked defeated, “It is time for me to take responsibility, I agree. I will do as you ask and make the world safe for you again, I promise.”

“Good. And cancel our appointment with that damn healer, tell her we’re having private sessions or whatever, get her off my back, _please.”_

“That too, I really do think you should take a pain potion though, Tom-”

“Don’t call me that. You’ve lost the right.” Tom snapped.

“Mr Gaunt… please. Some bruise salve too, take it with you back to your dorm if you won’t let me help you, at least. I can never apologise enough.” Dumbledore didn’t move from the sofa as Tom inched past him to get the potion and salve. 

“Goodbye now, professor.” Tom nodded unsteadily, and threw Dumbledore’s wand back to him, leaving without exposing his back to the man once.

Albus cried again, and sleep never came.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for reading! Can you believe the nerve of these two? Insane, right? I know not everyone will like what I've done with this scene, but it just kinda... came out that way. Further, just to clarify, Dumbledore won't be pursuing the matter of Amanda any further, as he didn't actually see Evan do anything to her in the memory other than a stunning spell, and its not like he'll be going to the Aurors given his method of finding out this info, sorry if you wanted justice for her!


	25. Consequences

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom blows the whistle on Dumbledore. Evan finally pushes his luck too far with Tom.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, this may be an intense chapter! Especially the end, if you are triggered at all by stalking/attempted assault, please stop reading after Tom goes back to his dorm room after his speech. I'll put a summary in the end of chapter notes.

Saturday was a bit of a blur in Tom’s memory, he had to stop by the Hospital Wing to confirm that he was okay with taking “private sessions” for his recommended therapy. His fatigue took the rest of the day from him. He could tell that Avery, Evan, and Lestrange wanted to ask what was going on as they sat together in the library, but the dark circles and occasional muttering on Tom’s part while writing his latest potions essay kept them at bay.

Thankfully, his tired state allowed him to sleep without any particularly vivid dreams that night, and Sunday dawned peacefully. The weather was mild, but Tom didn’t feel like walking the grounds, instead he spent the rest of the day in the common room. He dug out all of the books he’d ever been given by Dumbledore and went through them to remove the man’s personal notes and anecdotes doodled in the margins, and of course he revised the material - no matter how mad he was, he couldn’t turn away knowledge of advanced transfiguration and alchemy, the very thought was sacrilege. 

Avery came to sit next to him after some time, while Lestrange and Evan engaged in a game of Chess. He was quiet at first, which Tom was grateful for, but then:

“Do you want to talk about it?” Tom’s quill snapped in his hand at Avery’s well-intentioned prying. Tom glared at him, hoping it would be enough to silence him, and though he could see his friend was not unaffected by the promise of pain in his eyes, the boy tried again.

“Of our group, I’m the only one who has seen inside your mind, I know how much the missing memory was bothering you. Something happened between then and this morning at breakfast.” Avery asserted, quietly but firmly, “Want to discuss it in the chamber?”

“No,” Tom sighed explosively, “I suppose it doesn’t really need to be that big of a secret. The more people who know actually, the better, it might help…”

Avery frowned in confusion when Tom stood up, he cleared his throat and had the attention of the room at once.

“I’d like to call a house meeting, please. It is of great importance, fetch anyone still out of the house areas and bring them back, we’ll start in fifteen minutes.” He announced, meeting the eyes of anyone who groaned or grumbled with his fierce gaze.

“Are you sure, Tom? It’s not like you to…” Lestrange was saying as he and Evan packed away their game, Tom’s raised eyebrow shut him up. 

“I’m going to put my books away, and then I’ll return to begin the meeting.” Tom informed them. Behind his back, his friends exchanged anxious looks.

~

The common room hadn’t been this packed in a while, Evan observed. He felt _something_ , some sort of emotion swirling inside of him making him feel giddy and sick and elated all at once. Furniture had been moved to the far sides of the room to make space apart from one armchair where Tom sat regally at the centre, ready to speak to them all.

“Welcome,” Tom started, Evan felt lightheaded watching him, he trembled at the thought of Tom finally, _finally_ , stepping into the light as a figurehead. 

“I thank you for attending on such short notice, but there is a matter of great importance that may affect us all. Regarding the war, and one of the teachers within Hogwarts.” Tom paused, creating a dramatic effect as curiosity grew in the crowd. Evan was proud of his friend and idol.

“Albus Dumbledore.” Tom announced, “We know him as a powerful wizard in his own right, he is known for his record breaking NEWT score in Transfiguration and his own advancements to the field. He has studied Alchemy under the great Nicholas Flamel himself and has started to discover uses of Dragon’s blood that no one has thought of before, yet…”

“Yet. This is also a wizard that I have recently discovered was once friends with the Dark Lord currently terrorizing half of Europe, and more recently, Britain as well. Grindelwald, and the muggles he influences, will destroy this world if not stopped. Why then, would a light wizard of Albus Dumbledore’s stature be standing aside and allowing it to happen if my previous statement were not true? Horrific, that the man who teaches children in this castle would allow children outside of it to be harmed by his old friend.”

“Furthermore, when I sought his counsel on a personal matter, he projected his own innate darkness onto me and attacked me, even accusing me of harming students in these walls and studying foul magics.” Evan was completely taken in by the words, even though he knew personally that himself, Avery, Lestrange, and Tom had indeed practised Dark Magic in the Chamber.

“I propose that no Slytherin allow themselves to be alone in his presence. I have demanded that he step up and assist the Aurors with any knowledge of the Dark Lord Grindelwald to force him to desist. If he complies, we may see less of him in the castle anyway, perhaps he will atone. Perhaps he will not. In the meantime, my friends, my peers, members of the proud House of Slytherin, we shall stick together and begin to address the issues that have allowed such corruption into the castle so that no Slytherin may be harmed by those who cowardly pretend to be light to hide their own shameful darkness.” 

Tom seemed to hold them all to his standards not only in his unexpected speech, but with his very gaze, he lifted them from students to sentinels in a mere moment of incensed outraged on his behalf, and fear for their families outside of Hogwarts who may be vulnerable to attacks from Grindelwald. The man really stuck to the doctrine, “if you are not my ally, then you are my enemy.”

Evan’s words were stuck in his throat, he stepped forwards and fell to his knees.

“Tom, you have my support, now and always.” He declared. Evan knew that Avery and Lestrange would follow suit, and they did so along with other students in their year until gradually the whole house was in agreement.

Truly, Tom was the Heir of Slytherin, the Gaunt name now lifted from the mud and restored by his passionate words.

“Thank you for your candor Tom, we are behind you! No Slytherin shall be vulnerable outside of these rooms again!” A sixth year girl Evan didn’t know the name of told Tom loudly, reaching for his arm and staring at him adoringly. Evan felt a dark spike of jealousy infect his happy glow when Tom gave her a small smile of thanks.

He walked up to them and gave Tom his warmest smile, “So brave, Tom. Dumbledore won’t know what to do with such a united front as that our house will surely show from today.”

He longed to wrap his arm around Tom’s, press his lips adoringly to that perfect face, smooth his brow of all worries… A heady drug indeed to have the young man’s attention, Evan could only recall the one time Tom had taken him last year. How we wished he could go back on his promise to never mention his affection again. 

Perhaps if he just remained available, then one day Tom would come around to appreciating his devotion, yes… then he would be justly rewarded as Tom’s confidante, nay… lover?

~

Tom was pleased with the reception of his speech, he had taken the time since his impromptu call for a house meeting to gather his words together, quickly writing what he wanted to say in note form in the dorm and composing himself before he had gone out there to ‘rally the troops’. Metaphorically speaking, of course.

He, honestly, had exposed Dumbledore’s secret out of spite more than anything else, and the fear that the man may try to obliviate him again. Well, now unless Albus wanted to try to obliviate the whole house, his secret was out. Hopefully, those in the more influential families would already be thinking of writing to their parents to spread the news, and the rumour that Dumbledore would be facing Grindelwald on the battlefield soon.

The day couldn’t come fast enough, Albus had a promise to keep.

_I’ll make the world safe for you again._

Tom snorted to himself. The crowd around him didn’t seem to notice. Evan was annoyingly close, but he also seemed to be fending off the types of both genders that he would previously have considered taking to bed with thoughts of making a good marriage match if they weren’t too annoying.

He was emotionally exhausted, and not in the mood to play the dance required to drag a single person out of the attention of the crowds to the nearest broom closet. He was just so tired.

After some time, the furniture of the common room was moved back to the normal arrangement, and students filtered out to their dorm rooms, gossiping all the way. Slytherins may be shrewd, and ambitious, cunning folk. But they also loved to gossip. There was a fact that the sorting hat should try to include in its song some time.

Weary, Tom smiled and nodded once more at a well wisher, and slipped through the remaining throng of people to the stairwell, then to the seventh year boys’ dorm room. Once he sat on his bed and kicked off his shoes, and only then, did he sigh contentedly. 

Albus would know it was him who had spread the knowledge, perhaps it had been too bold, too much of a betrayal of the man’s trust… but, Tom told himself, at least at the end of the school year he’d never have to see Albus again.

If they lived that long.

~

In the middle of the night, when the room was black as pitch, Tom woke to a creaking sound by his bedside. He squinted through the darkness, wondering if it was just one of his friends getting up to use the loo in the night. Call him paranoid for checking… 

“ _Lumos_.” He whispered, holding his wand closeby.

Closer than he could have imagined, was Evan’s face, the young man was standing at the end of his bed, staring adoringly at him. Alarmed, Tom sat up and pointed his wand at Evan firmly.

“What are you doing?” He whispered furiously.

“Oh, Tom.” Evan whispered back, “I can’t help it, I just… like to watch you sleep,”

Disgust rolled around inside Tom, tempting his stomach to rebel. He wondered how long the boy had been watching him for. Had it just been this night? How often if not?

“Go. Back. To. Bed. Your own bed. What the fuck, Evan?” Tom all but hissed, well and truly creeped out.

Evan stepped carefully around Tom’s trunk to his bedside, he knelt in front of the bed, closer to Tom, he might as well have been sitting on the edge of his bed with him. Tom leaned as far back as he could.

“Please…” Evan whispered, his voice breathy, needy even, “Reconsider.”

“What?”

“Reconsider,” Evan urged, “From before… the promise I made you. Please, Tom.” 

It took Tom a moment to realise what this was about. Evan’s… odd affection, perhaps an extension of that which had led to a girl’s death. He should have never gone on that stupid date with him to Diagon Alley. Tom was so full of regret that it almost overcame him, all he could see was Evan’s face illuminated against the blanket of night around them. The boy’s hazel eyes almost glowed supernaturally.

“Absolutely not.” Tom eventually spat out, “Now, go back to your own bed or I shall make you.”

Evan’s face twisted in the pain of rejection, he seemed to struggle with Tom’s decision. He got closer, hesitating, then unwisely, reached suddenly for Tom’s wand, trying to pin Tom down to ‘make him see sense’.

“Please, stop it-” Evan insisted as they wrested. Tom’s heart pounded in his chest as his friend got on top of him, he held onto his wand with everything he had and directed it towards the boy.

“ _Flipendo_.” Tom snarled, and the knock-back jinx did its job well, blasting Evan off of him - though he hit the beams of his four-poster and fell back over Tom’s trunk and against the opposite bed… Poor Lestrange.

Suddenly the other boys were awake from the commotion. Tom got out of bed, keeping his wand trained on where he thought Evan was. Lestrange and Avery lit their wands and scrambled out of bed.

“Tom? Evan? What’s going on?” Avery asked sleepily.

“Yeah Evan what the fuck?” Lestrange groaned, rubbing his side where he’d been hit by Evan’s flailing limbs.

It was good it was dark, the others likely couldn’t see how pale and furious Tom was, they couldn’t see him tremble. 

“Rosier… just crossed a line, is all. I think we should all take a trip to the chamber. Get dressed.” 

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you skipped the last scene: Evan was watching Tom sleeping, he tried to get him to reconsider dating/romance by begging and climbs on top of Tom to wrestle him for his wand. Tom casts Flipendo which knocks Evan away and wakes up the other two, Tom demands that everyone get dressed to go to the chamber of secrets... Tom wants to teach Evan a lesson that will finally stick.  
> ~
> 
> Thank you for reading! Please comment, and have a pleasant day!


	26. Consequences Pt2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom takes out his anger on Evan. Avery and Lestrange reveal that they know darker magic than Tom suspected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> WARNING: This chapter is shorter than my normal chapters BECAUSE IT IS SOLELY A TORTURE SCENE. PLEASE DO NOT READ IF SQUICKED BY USE OF CRUCIO OR SIMILAR. This chapter reveals the deep anger that has now found its way out of Tom, but it is not necessary to read if you don't want to. Suffice to say, Evan is punished for being a stalking, obsessed, creepy, bastard, and he'll never be able to touch Tom again. Sadly, Fluffy does not eat him :( Can't have her getting indigestion after all :D

" _ Finite incantatem _ .”

Evan dropped to the stone floor with a huff of pain and scrambled back from Tom who stalked towards him in anger. Avery and Lestrange were hesitant and remained behind Tom. Evan stopped backing up as he hit something solid, he looked up to see the basilisk looming over him, eyes shut for the moment.

“ _ Tom, why does Evan smell like more fear than usual?”  _ The basilisk asked, moving around the boy in question so that he was trapped in the coil of her tail.

“ _ He has betrayed me in a foul way,”  _ Tom hissed angrily, “ _ He wanted to force me to be… his nest mate. I did not want that.” _

The struggle was still fresh in his mind, and since then he had been making connections to all sorts of awful things that could have happened - whether or not Evan would have been brave enough to go that far…

Fluffy hissed threateningly and tightened her coils around Evan, he couldn’t move if he wanted to, and Avery held his wand out of reach, so magic was no use to him now.

“Tom?” Lestrange asked, nervous, “What happened?”

Tom shook at the question, wishing he didn’t have to answer again. He was thankful they had helped subdue and bring Evan down to the chamber out of the reach of the school wards without much question, unfortunately he knew he had to say something.

“He wanted me.” Tom told them, uncomfortable, his hand tightened around his wand, still aimed at Evan’s head, “He wanted it more than he respected my wishes on the matter.” 

It was the only way he could phrase it without being sick. He heard noises of disgust coming from the two behind him, and they stepped forwards to brandish their wands as well.

“In that case, I can see why…” Avery muttered, face set in grim determination.

“He killed Amanda too, you know.” Tom went further, “I’d spent a night or two with her and Evan happened upon us. She didn’t kill herself like the official report said. I should have told you both before.” 

His friends were pale, but both nodded.

“What do we do now, Tom?” 

The relief of not being alone in this eased the painful sensation in his chest that had taken root, the nausea and rage that had formed a knot. He dithered for a moment, trying to think more clearly, but it was for nought, he only had to look at his once-friend to know his next action before it happened.

“ _ Crucio _ .” The word was cold, harsh, unforgiving; the pain Evan felt at the first strike took his breath, then he screamed and struggled against the iron strength of the basilisk holding him to no avail. Every nerve was on fire, and there was no escaping it. Tom held the spell for twenty seconds, the longest he’d ever dared to hold the spell, and the first time on a human.

He panted for breath, but felt alive at the rush of power that had blazed within him while torturing Evan. Avery and Lestrange were as stony faced as they could manage, but remained pale.

“You will never get near me again, Evan, even if I have to tear you apart limb from limb one day.” Tom vowed, “Count yourself lucky that another death in Hogwarts would be too suspicious, especially right at the start of the school year. Still, perhaps you need a taste of what it would be like…”

He advanced, and ignored Evan’s tears, Avery and Lestrange assisted as he conjured ropes and attached them to each of Evan’s limbs. Tom sneered at the way Evan fell apart, and drew strength from the hatred that had been building in him lately - for Dumbledore, for the apparent futility of the Ministry’s efforts to repel Grindelwald’s men, for Evan getting too close to him, so close that he had almost-

Fluffy gently nudged Tom, and he stroked her nose. She stood at his back comfortingly, a suitable guardian for the Heir of Slytherin. Tom linked the ropes connected to Evan’s wrists while Avery and Lestrange took one each for his legs.

There was a moment of quiet, only their combined breathing could be heard, then all at once, three voices combined, “ _ Accio _ .” They were careful to maintain the connection to the spell so that they didn’t actually pull him limb from limb, but Evan screamed as his joints were strained mercilessly.

“Tom, please.  _ Please _ .” Evan begged, but Tom didn’t let up, even when the stench of urine soured the air, he  **pulled.** His eyes gleamed, and then-

_ Pop. _

At least two of Evan’s limbs dislocated at the same time, and all three spells ended. Evan was dropped back onto the floor, jostling him further. He continued to moan in pain, sobbing ceaselessly. He tried to curl in on himself in his hysterics. Tom took a few deep breaths to come back to his own senses, he turned from the traitor on the floor, wishing in his heart that he could go further. He stroked Fluffy’s scales, and she hissed contentedly.

“ _ You should let me eat him, Tom, he is pitiful.” _ She cajoled, her tail flicking excitedly at the thought.

“ _ Alas, my love, I fear he would give you indigestion. _ ” He murmured back to her, soothed by her presence.

“ _ That would be a great shame, indeed. Very well. I suppose you should put him back together before he passes out?” _ Her tongue flicked out, giving her a questioning expression, she could no doubt smell his pain.

Tom reluctantly turned back to the pile of wretched bones he’d once called friend and cast a diagnostic charm over him. He thanked his previous diligence in learning healing charms, but disregarded any sense of bedside manner as he corrected the dislocation and eased some of the inflammation of his nerves. Let the bastard be sore, he sadly would recover in time.

When Tom stood again, Evan looked up at him with a hint of hope in his eyes, glad to be healed.

“Thank you, Tom, so merciful-” Tom was sickened by the words and succumbed to the urge to violence by kicking Evan hard in the stomach.

“ **Silence.** ” He commanded, nearly slipping into parseltongue, his rage was still just beneath the surface, easily rekindled. The resulting coughing fit Evan had was almost worth having to hear the boy’s words, it sounded painful.

Avery stepped forward, “If I may, Tom?” 

Tom nodded. Avery gave Evan a chilling smile, and purposely stepped on Evan’s fingers as he crouched before him to cast a deadly spell. 

“ _ Ligaveris memoriam, mortem, si revelata. Mortem, si revelata. Ligaveris memoriam hoc. _ ” Avery chanted, a ghostly pale green fog winding from his wand to Evan’s temple. Tom was impressed, having not known Avery had delved so far into dark magic to be using chants, nor binding spells of this magnitude. Although such magic was dependent on the caster for their intent and strength of will to set the boundaries of the spell, if Avery was not careful, he could be cursing Evan to die if he ever speaks at all. Not that Tom would protest if that was the result.

A cruel smirk showed on Avery’s face, Tom didn’t know that his bookish friend had such a side to him. Lestrange eagerly stepped forwards, “If you’ll allow me, I would also like to curse this fucker.”

Tom snorted at the crude language and allowed him, curious. He looked the other way when his eager peer stepped on the already broken fingers of Evan, who looked terrified. 

“ _ Vehemens dolor si tactus _ .” Lestrange cursed with a smile that was almost gleeful, Tom translated in his head and snorted when he figured out the intent behind the spell. Evan wouldn’t be touching himself or anyone for a long time.

Avery  **and** Lestrange had some creative aces up their sleeves it seemed, although Tom had to wonder when they had the time to come up with such specific spells, it would be… dangerous to try untested spells on their peer. Tom smirked to himself, if Evan didn’t remember and translate that last spell carefully enough… they would all know it.

Finally, the adrenalin began to wear off, the fear dislodging. He had allies, he had power. Evan was nothing. Would remain nothing. Tom had briefly considered telling someone about Evan’s crimes, but decided the risk of tarnishing his own name in the process was too high.

They disillusioned themselves and carefully made their way back to their dorm after wishing Fluffy a good night. They were back in their own beds (Tom placed intricate wards around his own, just in case), before the sun could rise, to catch a few hours of troubled sleep before Monday morning classes.

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> If you did read, what did you think? I haven't written many scenes like this before, hope I did it justice? Also, should I add tags to the story description, and if yes, what tags?
> 
> Translation of chants/spells:  
> “Ligaveris memoriam, mortem, si revelata. Mortem, si revelata. Ligaveris memoriam hoc.” = Bind memory, death, if revealed. Death, if revealed. Bind this memory. - i.e. Avery is stopping Evan from indicating to anyone what was done to him, he will literally die if he tries. The repetition of the spell and strong emotions used makes it almost as strong as an unbreakable vow, though unwilling on Evan’s part. Dark magic, what can I say? *Shrug*  
> “Vehemens dolor si tactus.” = Intense pain if you touch - Lestrange’s intent here is for Evan to feel pain if he masturbates, or tries to have sex with anyone else. It’s not necessarily a nearly-permanent curse in the way Avery’s is given the lesser penalty. Evan could probably find a way around it eventually, but it will no doubt take him a long time.
> 
> Sorry if the latin is actually garbage, I used online translators when coming up with the spells. Thank you for reading!


	27. Christmas 1944

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom celebrates both Christmas and Yule, and it's not so bad.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, to lighten the mood, here are some Slytherin shenanigans, with alcohol, Gryffindor bashing, and swears.

Happily, Tom did not see much of Albus except for during Transfiguration classes. A few students had complained about him not being available to ask questions about assignments, but Tom simply advised those students to form study groups in the meantime. Evan was the quietest he had ever been, Tom hadn’t spoken a word to him in the months since that day in the Chamber.

Slytherin House on the whole, however, had become very active behind the scenes. Students contacting their parents for updates from within the ministry itself about the war, and reporting back to Tom. Often now, students were coming to him for guidance on what to learn, and for his opinions on the latest Wizengamot sessions (transcripts were always published in the daily prophet, towards the back). Tom found himself in the unique position of being able to shape students' opinions, and for those students to write to their parents within the Ministry encouraging them to vote a certain way.

Of course, whether or not their parents were taking their children seriously was another matter. For now, it was enough to plant the seeds. So far, by all accounts, Auror recruitment was up, and a bill was going through the Wizengamot to authorise lethal force against Grindelwald’s followers where necessary. Tom had high hopes for that one, though he knew his old mentor would disapprove. 

Furthermore, it was surprising to Tom just how many sixth and seventh year students had stayed at Hogwarts over the Winter break. Just a few days ago they had celebrated Yule, it was a marvel that there had been enough students still in Slytherin to have an actual celebration instead of just the regular Christmas celebration Hogwarts put on to pander to those who were muggle-raised.

**_Flashback ~ Friday 22nd December 1944_ **

_ “It’s fucking freezing!” Lestrange whined, “Remind me why we’re out here at butt o’clock of the morning in the  _ **_forbidden_ ** _ forest?” _

_ “Just yesterday you were complaining about not being able to celebrate Yule properly with your family and now that we’re all out here looking for a decent yule log to sneak back into the Slytherin Common Room to burn… you’re complaining?” Avery admonished, then he scooped some snow off of a bush and quickly stuck his hand down the back of Lestrange’s robes. _

_ “ _ **_AHHH_ ** _!” Lestrange screamed, “Rudolph you bastard!” _

_ Tom snickered as Lestrange chased Avery off through the forest to get his revenge. _

_ “Are they always like this?” A voice piped up, Tom glanced over at the sixth year, Orion Black. _

_ “Only all the time.” Tom responded, amused, “Looks like it’s down to us to get the log, everyone else is collecting berries and stuff for Wreaths.” _

_ “It is a little funny that Avery is called Rudolph, is that why you never call him by his name?” Orion grinned at him. Tom snorted at the reference. _

_ “Bet you 3 Galleons Lestrange tries to transfigure him into a deer.” Tom replied, then stopped, lifting his wand high and putting more power into his Lumos spell. “Here looks like a good spot, this poor tree must have got caught in a centaur herd fight or something, I’m sure we could use part of it.” _

_ “Not bad.” Orion agreed, and they got to work using precise cutting spells to get the size and shape they wanted, also adding runes for the ritual later.  _

_ “Looks good.” Tom sniffed, his nose cold in the winter air, “Let’s get it back to the common room before the Gryffindors descend from their tower, I think they’re planning a snowball fight for later.” _

_ “Ah, yeah, I don’t want to get caught in that.” Orion agreed easily.  _

_ Avery and Lestrange caught up with them at the edge of the forest, looking chagrined that they hadn’t helped at all, both were bright red from running around in the cold. Tom raised an eyebrow at their dishevelment, and Orion laughed under his breath as they hung their heads a little during the walk back to the castle. _

_ “Wait,” Avery stopped them when they were halfway back, “We forgot to go to the paddock to feed the thestrals.” _

_ “No worries, we can fulfill the feeding animals part easily enough…” Lestrange commented innocently, then he fired off a sudden spell which Avery just managed to dodge, though they all watched in horror as the spell instead hit Professor Merrythought who had been out for a morning walk. She turned into… _

_ A Deer. So predictable. _

_ “Nothing for it lads, run!” Lestrange announced, panicking. “Every man for himself!” _

_ They did all run, although Tom had the thought to send a quick “Reparifarge,” over his shoulder in the hopes she would return to normal.  _

The memory made him snort, it had been a fun day, he had to admit to himself, later when they had lit the Yule log as a group in the fireplace, enchanted to be everlasting (or… until the new school term anyway), there had been a camaraderie in the group. They had all thanked magic, and thanks to the house-elves, had a delightful candlelit feast. The addition of the eerie green glow of the lake coming in from the windows had made the whole evening that much more atmospheric.

Nothing like Christmas, Tom decided. So far, he had been encouraged to open gifts and socialise with other houses. While he appreciated getting new things, he had still thought that the expectation to know who was going to give you a gift and prepare a gift for them beforehand was exhausting. He had not bothered getting Albus a gift this year, but that had not stopped the Professor sending him a book,  _ Mind Arts & Morality  _ by M. Boringdon _ ,  _ which he had thought was ironic in the extreme. Considering the man’s actions. Tom was tempted to send a note asking if the man had read it. Ultimately, he ignored it, and wrote thank you notes to everyone else who had sent him gifts.

His haul had included contraband and useful things alike: Firewhiskey (several bottles) from Lestrange,  _ Banned Rituals 1692 - A Treatise on Changing Ministry Standards  _ from Avery _ ,  _ a wand holster intended for his thigh from Evan that he had checked and rechecked for curses, surprisingly he’d received a new winter cloak from Orion (he’d only gifted a box of Honeydukes latest), then the normal sweets, chocolates, and multiple new fancy quills with swirling golden, pearlescent, and iridescent inks in various colours… At least he wouldn’t run out of ink, or snacks, anytime soon.

In fact, it came in quite handy when it naturally came to the part of Christmas Day when Tom was fed up with the rest of the castle and invited a few people to the Chamber of Secrets with him: Today, he’d naturally invited Avery and Lestrange, then decided he might as well bring some others into the fold, also asking Orion and Theodorus Nott, another sixth year Slytherin.

Fluffy had been exceptionally pleased with having new people to tease and frighten, (“Who wouldn’t be afraid of a 60ft snake who can turn you to stone?” Nott had asked, looking pale), as well as the special request Tom had put in with the house-elves to deliver her a larger amount of livestock than normal. Everyone else ate to the point of gluttony during the season, and Tom felt the basilisk had as much right as anyone to feel well-fed.

Now though, the group were happily half-way through a bottle of Ogden’s finest and trying sweets that Nott had been gifted, which had various effects - colour changing, voice changing, bubble-producing, steam-producing… Amusing, though the effects wore off after a few minutes. Tom had unfortunately spent three minutes as blue, bubble-producing, and high pitched after eating a handful on a dare, but it wasn’t as bad as Orion’s handful, which had caused him to be yellow and brown striped, only able to produce a long croak followed by an unfortunate bout of gas. The boy had refused to eat any more after that, thank Merlin for air freshening charms.

“-Yeah I would feel sorry for him, but all he does is stare at us when we’re in the same room, little bit weird.” Lestrange gossiped, then started chewing on a liquorice wand.

“Rosier has always had a weird vibe, nice one on cursing him though, long time coming. I heard the girls in our talking about how sometimes he waits outside of broom closets to listen to couples.” Orion commented, “Fuckin’ pervert, you know.”

“Disgusting.” Nott shook his head, “Although, that Mindy Cresswell, wouldn’t mind knocking on that door.” He grinned.

“Is that the hufflepuff with the huge-” Lestrange spat out his sweet eagerly.

“Ew!” Avery yelled as the half-chewed liquorice landed on him, “ _ Evanesco _ . You’re such a prat.”

“Whatever Dolphy. Ya love me. Anyway, about Mindy-”

“Aren’t you still with Walburga?” Tom asked, helping himself to some mint cream chocolates.

“Not since our little Orion here had a marriage contract drawn up for him. Lucky wizard.” Nott chimed in again, bumping his shoulders with said wizard.

“She’s alright. You’re lucky Tom, no overbearing relatives trying to marry you to your cousins.” Orion laughed.

“Well,” Tom responded, thinking, “I think I’ll wait until after the war to think about all that anyway. I know it would be a good idea to marry to bring back the Gaunt and Slytherin bloodlines, but settling down straight away is not for me.”

“That’s our Tom!” Lestrange exclaimed drunkenly, “Funky little bachelor.”

They all jeered and poured more shots.

“Getting real though, I just remembered the tattoo thing, if we’re still doing that, did I ever show you my designs?” Avery put his glass down and summoned his bag, if it hit Lestrange on the way over, the boy didn’t notice, so deep in a bottle was he.

“You guys are getting tattoos?” Orion perked up, looking impressed.

“Yeah but like, with protean charms and shit so we can contact each other. Not quite like a floo call, more like to let each other know where we are so we can meet up and stuff.” Avery explained, sifting through parchment and eventually pulling out a few sheafs covered in his design work.

“Whoa…” Lestrange put the bottle down and shifted closer to see the art. Avery had taken the avenue of redesigning the Slytherin Crest in various ways, but the group were all impressed at the level of detail.

“Hey, why is there a skull on this one?” Nott asked, pointing it out.

“Uh, skulls are cool, I don’t know what to tell you.” Avery slurred a little, grinning in pride as his work was admired.

“Can we get in on this tattoo thing and more importantly, do they have to match? Because it would be cool if we could, like, customise them.” Orion contributed, leaning his head on Nott’s shoulder.

“Yeah, yours could say Cousin Fuckers United under it, isn’t that basically your family motto?” Lestrange quipped.

“Hey! You’re one to talk, first time I saw your parents I thought they were brother and sister.” Orion spat back, pushing the older boy.

“Calm down gentlemen,” Tom finally interrupted,they all turned to him with bated breath, their one true leader, “You’re all cousin fuckers. Now, I like the skull one, don’t you think Gryffindors, and in particular Dumbledore, would absolutely hate it? We could add a little motto, like, ‘Gryffindors are Goat Fuckers’.”

They burst out laughing, holding onto each other, even Tom, and spent the rest of the evening wondering if they could charm the Gryffindor House portrait - The Fat Lady - with a smiley face skull. 

Perhaps Christmas wasn’t all bad, Tom thought later, heading back to the common room under a disillusionment charm with the excitable group, you just had to spend it with the right people.

~


	28. Saturday 3rd February 1945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom talks to Slughorn, the boys finally get their tattoos, and Avery makes a grave mistake.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hope you enjoy this chapter! There is a time skip in the middle, which takes us from February 1945 to the end of March 1945.

“Ah boys, it is getting late, I appreciate the fascinating conversation, but I must insist you get back to your dormitory before it gets past curfew.” Slughorn chuckled, sipping his latest cup of elf-made wine. Tom subtly nodded to his friends who had stayed behind after the usual Slug Club meeting, and they made a show of groaning in disappointment as they stood and stretched, getting ready to head back to the common room.

“Good night Sluggie!” Lestrange called behind him gleefully, Professor Slughorn shook his head in amusement and gave a wave. He finished his cup of wine and closed the door, turning to tidy up the room they had borrowed for their meeting. However, he jumped when seeing Tom was still there, sitting stiffly in his seat.

“Tom? It’s getting rather late there my boy, I enjoy inanimate to animate transfiguration theory as much as the next man, but I believe we have rather exhausted the topic for tonight.” Slughorn smiled fondly at the Slytherin, and with a wave of his wand, the dishes gathered themselves up into one neat pile.

“But professor, I value your wisdom so greatly, I simply had to get your opinion on something.” Tom bit his lip and appeared bashful, “I would have brought it up earlier, but I was worried the other boys would take it the wrong way, they’re not all as open minded as you, Sir.”

Slughorn frowned and stumbled into the seat next to Tom.

“Everything alright, my boy? Of course you know I’ll help you if I can.” He slurred, patting Tom on the shoulder. Tom winced a little but turned in his seat to face the man, hoping the body language would engender trust and openness.

“Well,” Tom began in a hushed tone, “Just between me and you, there was a book left out in the library the other day, and obviously, I picked it up to reshelve it for Madam - a librarian’s job is never done - but when I checked it, it seemed rather dark. I flicked through the pages and saw something I didn’t understand.” Tom paused for effect, Slughorn leaned in, enticed by the tale.

“It was rather rare magic, soul magic I believe, the author referenced a vessel called a…” Tom lowered his tone even further, “ _Horcrux_.”

“Oh!” Slughorn exclaimed, leaning back a little in surprise, though he clearly recognised the word. Tom straightened up as well, waiting to see what the professor would say.

“It is indeed rare magic, you were right to come to me Tom. I can tell you about it, I know you’re an academic at heart, like myself… A Horcrux is a sort of vessel for the soul, if legends are to be believed, made by those who wish to cheat death itself.” Slughorn summoned the bottle of wine and drank straight from it, “You see, it’s considered to be dark magic, you’ll never hear of a light wizard who has made one, for you must split your soul to bind the chosen object to the soul, thus binding yourself to the mortal world, even if your body is destroyed.”

“Split the soul?” Tom pretended ignorance.

“A terrible thing, the only known way to split the soul is to commit heinous acts - such as murder. I don’t know if mercy killings count, you know, the old legends of Angels of Death - wizards who would use the killing curse to end the lives of those in pain, those too sick to heal. Muggles didn’t know it was magic of course, and chose to impose their religious beliefs on the truth…” Slughorn rambled. While fascinating, Tom interrupted to get the man back on topic.

“So, in theory, does that mean the soul can split only once? Or does each kill splinter the soul further?” Tom questioned with a puzzled expression. Slughorn also paused to think about the question.

“If one were to kill more than once…” Slughorn pondered, and shuddered, “Such an evil wizard would likely splinter his soul further, yes. It would probably drive him mad, if he wasn’t so already.”

“Drive him mad? But do you think there’s an Arithmancy argument to be made for the perfect number of soul pieces? Surely 3, or… or 7, both powerful numbers, would make sense theoretically.” Tom rambled, recalling his research. Slughorn recoiled in horror at the thought.

“Merlin, Tom! To split the soul into seven pieces… The wizard would no longer be human.” Slughorn closed his eyes as though pained, “A monstrous thing. Perhaps we would do well to leave this… theoretical discussion here, Tom. You really should get back, even the Head Boy can lose points!” 

Displeased with the conclusion of the discussion, but not willing to let on, Tom smiled and nodded, getting ready to leave.

“Thank you for understanding, Professor. It’s not always easy to ponder the mysteries of magic, but your _astute_ wit has broadened my own horizons, and I thank you for taking the time to speak with me. Oh, did you enjoy your pineapple this Christmas?” Tom clasped his hands behind him and turned just as he reached the doorway.

“Oh-ho! Yes, I did, you wonderful boy, my absolute favourite treat. Now off you go, I’ll see you in potions bright and early Monday!” Slughorn chuckled, apprehension dissipated.

“Good night professor.” Tom waved, and left.

~

“He really thought that?” Avery looked incredulous, then nervous, “Perhaps he is right, Tom, it’s wildly advanced and volatile magic, there is much that is still unknown in soul magic after all. It is a dangerous thing to risk, what if part of your magic goes with the soul piece into the vessel? You’d be weakened.” 

“The arithmancy doesn’t support that, though, Avery.” Tom countered, frustrated, “While a lot of magical power is required to perform the ritual to bind the soul and object together, nothing suggests degradation of the mind **or** magic.”

“Is it worth risking, though, Tom? Perhaps one horcrux, well protected, would be enough.” Avery challenged. They were alone in the Chamber of Secrets, their research between them on the floor of Slytherin’s study.

“What happens to the soul piece if the vessel is destroyed?” Tom changed the subject, “Do you think it would seek out the main soul piece and body? Or would it be irretrievable?”

“I suppose…” Avery frowned, flipping through _Secrets of the Darkest Art,_ “Ah, here: To destroy a horcrux, the vessel must be irrevocably damaged, by use of means such as Fiendfyre, Basilisk venom, or something equally destructive. Keep it away from Fluffy then”

“Hm.” Tom didn’t laugh at the quip.

“I guess the hard part would be the m-murder,” Avery stumbled over the word, “If Slughorn is right and mercy killing doesn’t count, you couldn’t just sneak into mungo’s or muggle hospital and turn off the life support, you have to mean it, I guess.” 

“That is a problem.” Tom felt a little wrong even thinking about it, but determined nonetheless to plan his eventual immortality.

“Well, if the war goes on much longer, we might get dragged into the Auror corps straight out of graduation, that would probably solve it.” Avery guessed grimly. 

“Indeed…” Tom considered darkly, though he knew if he was to kill on the battlefield, he would want it to be a meaningful target for splitting his soul, not just a grunt soldier. 

“For now though,” He continued, “You are right, there is not much we can do within Hogwarts, unless Evan pisses me off again.” 

Avery laughed, “If Leonard doesn’t get there first.”

“Leonard?” Tom asked confusedly. Avery sighed.

“Lestrange…”

“His name is Leonard?”

“You see why he goes by his surname, those poor girls he convinces to get into bed with him, can you imagine? Oh Leonard, you sexy hunk.” Avery fluttered his eyelashes and put on a high pitched voice.

Tom burst out into laughter and pushed his friend, “Dear Merlin, don’t ever do that again, I thought my nightmares were bad enough before…”

~ Time Skip ~

“How is it Easter already? My parents want me home to sign the marriage contract to Walburga. As soon as I graduate next year, I’m doomed to a life with her.” Orion moaned miserably into his breakfast. 

Tom buttered his toast, and ignored him, having heard the same speech every morning that week.

“There, there, my boy. So brave.” Lestrange patted Orion’s shoulder, speaking through a mouthful of eggs, “To be tied down to one woman like that, who could resist?”

Avery and Nott snorted into their pumpkin juice.

“Fuck off, man. How come you haven’t been locked into a contract yet?” Orion shrugged off Lestrange’s hand and stared moodily into his porridge.

“Well, I have until I’m 21 to secure a bride of good standing before my parents interfere, it was a deal I made with them a while back. Besides, I’m considering joining the Department of International Magical Co-operation, who knows, might meet some cute French chick or something.” Lestrange explained, waggling his eyebrows.

“So in other words, you’ve fucked your way through the British female population at last, and want to chase after more… exotic? Witches now?” Avery asked crudely, “I’m surprised you haven’t shrivelled up by now.”

“Ew! Can we not discuss his shrivelled bits at the breakfast table?” Nott looked a little green.

“Yeah! And there’s nothing wrong with my bits, they’re perfectly healthy and in working order. Want to check?” Lestrange leered at Avery, who scowled at him.

“Urgh, hard pass.”

“Spoilsport.”

“Excuse me, Gentlemen, but the carriages are leaving for Hogsmeade. If you’re going home, you best get going.” Tom interrupted smoothly, having watched the other tables in the hall start to empty.

Cursing, Orion and Nott both got up and hurried out, hollering a goodbye over their shoulders. The seventh year trio snickered at their departure, and continued their breakfast leisurely.

“We’re doing the tattoos this weekend right?” Lestrange whispered excitedly after some time.

“Yes, we’ll use the modified protean charm, and sneak out to Hogsmeade to test it. Hopefully, everyone will be busy enough to not notice we’re gone. You both passed your apparition tests last year right?” Tom confirmed.

“Yup, got my license on my second try. You got yours first try, didn’t you Tom? Thought poor Twycross was going to topple over in surprise, you were that quick to learn.” Avery grinned at the memory.

“Yes, though I haven’t had much opportunity to use the skill. Wouldn’t it be nice if we could apparate around the school to get to classes instead of going up and down all those staircases?” Tom wondered aloud.

“Ah, that’s the dream. Still, only a few more months until graduation. Feeling prepared for the NEWTs yet? Think we’re going to be pure revision after the Easter break.” Lestrange chipped in.

“That’s what I heard too, any projects have to be submitted by the Friday before exams start, then the theory exams are in the morning each day with the practical part in the afternoon like our OWLs were. Don’t know how I’m going to survive and I’m taking like half the number of NEWTs Tom is.” Avery explained, cringing at the idea of tests.

“Well, you should manage your time more effectively.” Tom sniffed superciliously, “Speaking of which, we should get to the library, I need to check out that book on runes for my warding project.”

~

“I am so **_hyped_ **for this! We’re going to be connected for like, forever, and hopefully there’s no distance limit on it, which would be awesome because we could theoretically use our combined power to apparate distances that normally wouldn’t be possible!” Avery rambled excitedly, clutching the designs and his notes in his arms as they descended into the Chamber.

“I’m just glad you and Tom know what you’re doing!” Lestrange laughed, also excited at the prospect.

“We’ll be sure to test it on you first then, since you have such faith in us.” Tom teased, rolling up his shirt sleeves, “Do you still think the forearm is the best place?”

“Well, when we all have jobs, people won’t see it under our robes, and in friendly company it won’t matter. Let’s do it.” Avery nodded at his own words, convincing himself.

“Right.” Tom pulled out his wand, “Avery, if you could perform the tattoo charm, I’ll weave the binding charm in as we go, we’ll apply the protean charm when we are all done.” He leaned against the sturdy desk, bracing himself for the sting of the charm.

“Lestrange, if something starts to go wrong, use the anti-jinx chant, it should hopefully unweave the two spells and just leave the tattoo.” Avery reminded, and Lestrange nodded, wand at the ready.

“Okay, okay…” Avery took a deep breath, focused on the agreed image, and incanted, “ _Illustratio in atramentum tenetur ad cutis.”_ He repeated this slowly a few times, sections of the tattoo showing up one part at a time until the skull and serpent intertwined was fully formed.

Meanwhile, Tom chanted under his breath with each iteration of the spell, “ _Quantum ad animam, ad magica, ad locum.”_ There was a burning feeling, and it was as though the black ink glowed as the spells merged and sank into his skin. For a moment, it had seemed as though his own magic was going to reject the link to his soul, but then it settled under his willpower for it to work. He was satisfied with the result, and his friend’s awed looks were worth being the first test subject.

“Well, gentlemen, who wants to go next?” Tom asked pleasantly, running his fingers briefly over the slightly raised flesh before straightening up. Lestrange went next, then Avery, although Tom had had to cast the binding charm for him so that he could use the tattoo charm on himself, not trusting Lestrange to do it (“Hey! I wouldn’t change it… much…” He had protested, to amused snorts from the others).

All three matched closely enough when all was done, so there was only one step left. They held their arms closely together and Tom raised his wand, incanting, “ _Proteus Notati_.” 

Then it was done.

“If this is going to become a thing among our network of friends and allies, we’re going to have to find a shorter way of doing this. That’ll be my spell creation project for after NEWTs.” Tom commented, feeling both a little drained and exhilarated at once at their success.

“Let’s go! Firewhiskey and debauchery awaits in Hogsmeade.” Lestrange grabbed Avery by the arm and led the way. Tom followed at a more sedate pace.

Under the cover of night, they crossed Hogwarts’ grounds and slipped through the gate easily. 

“I’ll apparate ahead, then try to activate the mark, focus on your marks to apparate to me when you feel the signal.” Avery and Lestrange nodded at Tom, he turned on the spot and reappeared in front of The Hog’s Head pub. He waited a moment, not actually sure how to activate the mark, then remembered that with normal protean charms, you only had to press your wand to the master item and use intent to activate the charm. He pressed his wand to his mark, now pleased the tattoo wasn’t in an unreachable place.

Moments later, his friends appeared in front of him, and cheered at their success.

“What was it like?” Tom asked eagerly.

“A little bit like… when the spell set earlier, a bit hot, noticeable but not too uncomfortable.” Lestrange described, grinning.

“First shot is on me! Then you’re on your own, lads.” Avery opened the door to the pub and held it for the other two.

“Nice one Rudy.” Lestrange teased, “Really generous.”

“Yeah, yeah, just saving my money for the witches. What’s the point of getting your arse drunk?” Avery followed them to the bar.

“Please, you’d be lucky to have my arse.” Lestrange nudged the other boy.

“Well, I’ll be somewhere you two aren’t. Three shots of firewhiskey, and, I think three butterbeers to start.” Tom ordered for them, then retreated to a table in a corner as soon as they were served. Avery and Lestrange barely noticed, as they continued to bicker.

~

The morning after, Tom choked with laughter at the noises of dismay coming from Lestrange’s bed, Avery fell out of it and ran, naked, to the shower to get “that bastard’s touch” off of him.

Tom raised an eyebrow in Lestrange’s direction, the other boy smirked, “He liked my arse after all.”

~

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Translations:  
> Illustratio in atramentum tenetur ad cutis. - Illustration in ink is held to the skin - pretty clear I hope?
> 
> Quantum ad animam, ad magica, ad locum. - As to the soul, to magic, to the place - ehh best I could manage, the idea is this spell binds the tattoo to his soul and magic, and location, so that when the protean charm is laid over it, the combination of these things allows the tattoo to function as we know from the dark mark, though a little less... evil? I guess
> 
> Proteus Notati - Protean charm incantation from a google search + Notati added on, meaning markings
> 
> Hope you enjoyed this chapter!


	29. Thursday 21st June 1945

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Tom's NEWTs are done, he prepares to leave Hogwarts.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yay I finally managed to finish writing this chapter! Hope you enjoy! <3

After a stressful few weeks, Tom’s NEWT exams were suddenly just… done. There were now two weeks of free time for the 7th years to spend in the Scottish summer sun while waiting for their results to come out so they could graduate. It had gone far more quickly than Tom had expected, and the exams had not been as hard as he had feared they would be, he was rather pleased with it all, except… the terrifying unknown that was his future as soon as he graduated.

With that in mind, he had sought permission from Headmaster Dippet to leave the grounds to find a flat to rent, he really didn’t want to be homeless as soon as he left school. Of course, if he was desperate, he could always seek out his late father and grandparent’s home: The Riddle House. It wasn’t an appealing option, such a large property for one person, the upkeep would be time-consuming, and Tom didn’t think he’d be able to acquire a house-elf for the short time he intended to be there. As soon as he had assessed his income from his stocks in the various broom companies and start up apothecaries he’d invested in, and cashed in on them, he would hopefully be leaving the UK to travel.

Tom wrapped a light robe around himself and stepped out of the Hogwarts’ gate, just far enough out of the wards to apparate away. He reappeared in the alley next to The Leaky Cauldron and swiftly entered the establishment, ignoring everyone in there and going straight to Diagon Alley. Lestrange had been kind enough to give him the name of a wizard who managed rental properties in both Diagon and Knockturn Alley, so Tom headed to the address, a modest building between Scribbilus’ and the Daily Prophet Headquarters.

Within the hour, he had been escorted to three flat viewings, and they were headed to the fourth. Mr Bellchant was a shrewd man who’s prices seemed to hover just above what Tom had clearly stated would be his budget for monthly rent, which Tom both admired from a business point of view, but hated as he was trying to conserve his funds for his travels.

“This next property is actually just a few doors into Knockturn, so you have the versatility of being close to shops from both streets, and naturally the floo connection is generously included in the rent for short term lets. Just above the well-established Mr Borgin’s shop in fact, one bedroom with attached shower-room, and an open plan kitchenette and receiving room with floo for guests. One might call it cosy.” Mr Bellchant waxed poetic about the two and a half dingy rooms above Borgin & Burkes, but it was the cheapest property yet. Tom mainly wanted somewhere to ward to the teeth and rest his head at night. It was grim, but at least the small size meant it would be easy to maintain.

“It is… charming, in its way.” Tom nodded, “I’ll take it. Shall we head back to your office to complete the relevant paperwork?” His soon-to-be landlord seemed excessively pleased with himself at Tom’s agreement, while Tom was thinking he might have to go to the Riddle House after all, if only to poach some furnishings for his new temporary home.

“Right this way then, Mr Gaunt…” 

~

Why his muggle relatives had felt the need to live at the top of a hill, Tom would never know, but he cursed them in his mind as he walked up towards the mansion - though it was called The Riddle House on the deed, it was definitely a mansion. The goblins had cautioned him that the village of little Hangleton was mainly populated by muggles, otherwise Tom would have just apparated straight in. The last thing he wanted was to get in trouble for breaking the statute of secrecy when he had barely finished school.

There was a gate where the private road leading up to the house, Tom slipped through and eyed the well kept grass. There was an annexe not far into the grounds, and smoke coming out of the chimney, which surprised him as he wasn’t aware of anyone caring for the property. Immediately on guard, his wand slipped into his hand from its holster and he crept towards the cottage-like building. The front door was slightly ajar, he pushed it open silently and spied a man polishing a silver teapot at a modest table, he appeared to be a simple muggle. Tom slipped his wand back up his sleeve and cleared his throat. His black open robes over his school shirt and grey slacks were not so obvious as wizarding clothes straight away, but he was ready to confound or obliviate the man if needed.

“My God… Master Riddle?” The man gasped, stumbling to his feet, a hand over his chest in shock.

“Not quite. His son.” Tom informed him coolly, “Thomas Marvolo Gaunt. I have inherited the property, yet the deeds did not indicate that the house came with staff?”

“Son! My word, so the rumours of his liaison with that woman were true…” The man mused, he ran a hand over his short blonde hair before coming to himself, standing up straight and offering his hand to Tom, “Where are my manners? Frank Bryce. Your father’s parents hired me when I was 18, although I did have to serve our country for a stint. Got back in early ‘43 with this bloody leg.” Frank shook Tom’s hand, and gestured angrily at his leg. Tom spotted a walking stick and decided not to ask what, exactly, had happened. The foot still appeared to be attached after all.

“Anyway, after that awful business with that  **_frea-_ ** Fellow from the Gaunt Shack. I was away on that day, but cleaned their blood from the home afterwards. Been looking after the property since, old man Riddle left a salary for me in his will anyway out of the estate, and I’ve no place else to be.”

“I see. Up until now, I’ve been attending a… private school, in Scotland. I am glad to hear the place has been maintained.” Tom accepted the situation as it was, “Perhaps you will show me around? I will not be here often, as I am… being drafted soon. I may take the liberty to redecorate at some point, do not be alarmed if things are no longer where they were before, unless, of course you have reason to believe there has been a burglary. You may continue to care for the house and grounds.” He decided, lying a little to the man to put him at ease.

“Alright, suppose you’ll be needing the master’s old keys anyway. Right this way.” Frank grabbed his stick and the caretaker’s ring of keys off of the wall and led the way up to the looming property.

~

It had been odd, walking around the large house. Though it was full of furnishings, most covered by white sheets to protect them from dust, there was a feeling of emptiness. In another world, perhaps he would have grown up in that place, what a discomforting thought. Nevermind, the furniture he’d swiped from the second lounge, a study tucked away on the third floor, and a sparsely decorated guest room was perfectly suitable for his flat in Knockturn Alley (shrunken and stowed in his pockets after Frank had left him to explore on his own, the muggle had started to get grumpy from the pain he was apparently in after showing him the ground floor).

With the paperwork sorted and furniture in place, Tom applied several wards to keep out thieves and had returned to Hogwarts triumphant and exhausted. His friends were in the entrance hall waiting for him, having finished dinner and knowing he would be returning soon. Tom smiled genuinely as the small group fell into step with him.

“Did you have a productive day, Tom?” Lestrange asked. Tom noticed that Avery was avoiding direct eye contact with the boy, and was standing on the other side of Nott and Black, an occurrence that had become regular each time the day after the two had been… entangled in Lestrange’s bed. Tom thought it was hilarious that Avery still refused to admit he actually liked him. Each to their own.

“Very productive, thank you. The contact you gave me was able to help me arrange accommodation, and I was able to procure some furniture easily. You are all welcome to visit of course, after term ends.” Tom informed them, they checked that they were not being followed, and entered the Chamber shortly after.

“Glad to be of use. Things were fairly quiet here, we spent most of the day out on the grounds. Nott nearly scored with a Ravenclaw chick, but naturally, we reigned him in with our usual charm, since he was in full view of Professor Beery - thought the man was going to use Aguamenti on us and not just his precious plants.” Lestrange clutched the sixth year to his side with a laugh, while Nott rolled his eyes.

“Cindy and I would have gone somewhere more discrete if you had let us ditch you.” Nott protested.

“Yeah, right, you were all over her, the ground was about to turn black beneath you.” Orion snorted.

“Oi! You lot have done worse, why would hell swallow me up but not you lot?” Nott grumbled, ducking out of Lestrange’s grip to straighten up.

“Ah, but we weren’t desecrating Hogwarts’ grounds with our lust in front of students, teachers, and ghost alike.” Avery finally commented sagely.

Tom laughed at Nott’s expense, “Alright, leave him be, let’s initiate these scoundrels.”

They fell into a loose circle, Fluffy was nowhere to be seen so was probably asleep somewhere in the tunnels beyond the main chamber. Avery pulled out his notes on the tattoo spell combination and was studying them to remember how they had done it last time.

“You can put those away, I actually figured out how to make it into one spell,” Tom revealed proudly, “The only thing is, there is a pain element in the spell which is unavoidable, as a sacrifice for making the spell work as one word, instead of an enchantment. Faster, but more painful. Who wants to go first?”

“Oh,” Both boys looked nervous at the revelation.

“I- I still want this, you’re an inspiration, Tom, and I would follow you anywhere.” Orion spoke up after a beat of silence, he stepped forward and lifted his sleeve to expose his forearm.

“Very brave of you. Alright then, Leonard, Rudolph, hold him, he needs to be still while I work the spell.” Tom instructed, and they moved forward to hold Orion still, while Nott backed up a little to give them room, he watched with morbid interest.

“Are you ready?” Tom asked, looking for any doubt in the sixth year’s eyes and finding none. He pressed his wand to the bare flesh and cast in parseltongue, “ _ Morsmordre _ .”

Orion screamed as black ink flared out from the point where Tom’s wand was touching him, the sensation was that of being branded slowly as the shape took form and Tom’s magic linked the protean element of the charm to his very soul so that they could always find each other if they so required. Lestrange and Avery did remarkably well at holding him still, and it looked like Nott was trying hard to steel himself against his own fear of pain as he had agreed to be marked next.

The whole thing barely took ninety seconds, then Orion dropped to his knees with a force that surprised those holding him up. Tom knelt down to check on him, worried that the experimental spell had not worked as expected. Orion panted harshly to regain his breath, and seemed pale but otherwise fine, he stared at the skull and serpent tattoo with fascination, then up at Tom. Tom unbuttoned his own sleeve to reveal his mark and they compared them side by side.

“It worked!” Avery exclaimed, peering over the pair to check. The tattoos were identical.

“Okay then, me next I suppose.” Nott looked nervous, but determined. Tom helped Orion up, and gave a nod to him. 

“Theodorus, with you taking the mark, our group will be complete, we who have spent our schooling preparing to defend ourselves against the world beyond these walls. The war continues, and three of us will go on to uncertain futures. With this mark, we remember our work on defense, no matter if the magic is classed as light or dark - magic simply  **is** , there is only power, and those strong enough to wield it. We shall remember our friendship, and our goals for the future to make a safer world for the generation after us through whatever means we can.” Tom announced to his friends, feeling surprisingly emotional about the occasion, and knowing that he only had mere days before he’d be leaving Hogwarts now.

Nott bowed his head in acceptance, and allowed himself to be held in place and marked with Tom’s spell. Afterwards, delighted though tired, the group gathered up their things from the chamber that had been left there through the year, not knowing when they would be back, or if they would be back at all, and headed back to their common room.

Waiting for them: Evan Rosier. One young man standing resolute before a group of five, bonded to the very soul.

“Good evening.” Evan greeted them. The rest of the common room was empty, oddly enough.

“Rosier.” Tom returned coldly.

“I know you figured out the tattoo… I was hoping you would mark me too.” Evan didn’t try to beat around the bush, he simply stated what he wanted, braver since it had been months since they had last spoken.

“Fuck off, Rosier, you don’t  **deserve** -” Lestrange leapt forwards, only to be grabbed by Avery and Not, holding him back from attacking the obsessive student.

“ _ Please _ , Tom. Didn’t we all plan this together back in the beginning? I’ll not ask for anything else, just this to remember you by when we have left this place.” Evan coaxed in a soft tone, his face and body language as open and beseeching as it had ever been.

“That was before. I thought we had made our position on this clear, but it seems our brand of justice is not enough for you. No matter, the dementors are longing for your company at Azkaban, all it will take is a word to the Deputy Headmaster.” Tom dangled the threat over him. Evan’s face turned to rage just as a stunning spell hit him from Avery.

“We don’t all need to go, why don’t you two go to bed? We’ve got this.” Lestrange encouraged the younger two students to go, and reluctantly they did, leaving Tom, Avery and Lestrange to levitate Rosier’s stunned form.

“Shall we go via Slughorn? It is after curfew, and we could use an adult to back us up.” Avery suggested as they left the common room again.

“That’s not a bad idea, let me go in first.” Tom suggested, to which his friends agreed.

Happily, Professor Slughorn’s office and quarters were not far from the Slytherin Common Room, though it was a little while after they knocked on his portrait that it opened to admit Tom. He went in first, as they had agreed, so he could explain the situation to the Potions Professor.

“Good evening, Sir, I’m sorry to disturb you at this time.” Tom greeted smoothly, giving a small grin.

“No problem at all, my boy, no problem at all. What can I do for you?” Slughorn welcomed him, and Tom wasted no time in explaining.

“We have discovered possible foul play in our very own common room, I have to warn you sir, what my friends and I have discovered is deeply distressing and I advise you to sit down…” Tom put on his most concerned and innocent face, “Evan Rosier… he confessed to us that he, that he… oh it’s hard to even say, well, sir, he suggested that he pushed… Amanda, that poor girl, last year, from the tower. He was threatening to do the same to us if we said anything, but I couldn’t stand by and let anyone else get hurt…”

Slughorn looked appropriately shocked and dismayed.

“Merlin! How dreadful, one of my own House… I suppose you were able to apprehend him?” The man gasped, peering through the still open portrait hole. At those words, the other two came in, still levitating the stunned boy.

“Here, professor.” Avery set Rosier down on the sofa nearby, still stunned.

“Well now, I suppose I should rouse the Headmaster for this, we will need Aurors to attend…” Slughorn fretted.

“No matter, sir, we already have an idea of what to do, and just the man to help us.” Tom reassured, “Poppy!”

The house-elf appeared within moments, whirling around to observe the wizards in the room, “Mister Gaunt called, Sir?”

“Yes, Poppy, we need Professor Dumbledore to come, we have discovered a bad person, and his assistance is required, would you wake him for us?” Tom asked kindly, further cementing the image of himself as guiltless - the sort of wizard who was kind to house elves surely could never hurt someone else, after all.

She nodded and popped away at once. Tom released a sigh as they settled to wait, it had finally come to this.

~


End file.
